


Other Half Of Me

by Sage_Kazankov



Series: Emotio: Willow [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal, Anal Sex, Anxiety, Choking, Deepthroating, Detectives, Dominance, Emotional, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Gay, Gay Character, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, Hair-pulling, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Major Original Character(s), Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Universe, Punk Rock, Rock Stars, Running Away, Stardom, Submission, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:27:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 52,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23215492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sage_Kazankov/pseuds/Sage_Kazankov
Summary: As a homicide detective, Detective Barrack Invar's job was stressful enough without his Lieutenant breathing down his neck. Things for Barrack didn’t look any brighter in the wake of a murder case. Until he came home to a wonderful surprise. His best friend since the age of 3 had finally come home.Willow survived. His best friend since childhood was all that mattered to him. He craved any small scraps of affection Barrack was willing to give. Every look, every praise, every touch, tore his soul; he was constantly reminded of what he couldn’t have. Barrack. When he unexpectedly returned home, his insides burned with the need for the man he loved.Barrack found his feelings towards Willow slowly changed. He was in love with his best friend. For him, it was a simple thing. Willow on the other hand could not accept what he was freely willing to give. Willow did the only thing he knew. He ran.Returning home, Willow's fears were confirmed when Barrack refused to come with him. Barrack's promises to follow seemed long in coming. Willow was left devastated feeling abandoned & alone.Can Barrack convince Willow of his love? Will Willow allow Barrack to love him?
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: Emotio: Willow [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1669123
Comments: 27
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was previously published under a different pen name. Now its out of contract so I figured I'd post it here.
> 
> Seeing as this is finished & I only have minor things to tweak I expect no delays in getting this out on time. This story has been expanded from the previously published work.
> 
> I know original works aren't the most popular here but that's okay. I'm sure someone will enjoy Barrack (like an army barrack) and Willow.
> 
> This is a full length (52,600 word) book.
> 
> ~ Sage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sagekazankov.wordpress.com

Detective Barrack Invar stood outside NRG Stadium, where the popular rock-pop band, Emotio, had played a sold out concert the night before. Barrack leaned against his black Ford-250, his ankles crossed as flyers rolled by in the slight breeze, which gave some relief from the hot, unforgiving Texas sun. His partner, Edmond Calhoun, was late. Again. They were supposed to meet Barrack’s informant, Mitch, together, but as expected, the lazy ass was nowhere to be seen. Fuck it all.

Barrack spent most of the day following up on leads, alone, and now his dipshit of a partner was late for this as well. Typical. His lunch had consisted of a day-old donut and hours-old coffee just to keep his and Calhoun’s work on track.

Barrack had received a text from Mitch two nights ago: “ _a big deal is going down and they need to meet now_ ” or something to that effect.

Detective Invar looked at the giant stadium and sighed. His thoughts turned to the band.

Originally, Emotio was supposed to play at the Toyota Center. Outrage from the fans at so little seating, only 19,000 seats to be exact, had forced the concert to move to the larger NRG with its 71,700 seats, not to mention the floor seats. The 52,500 extra seats sold out in five hours. A new record.

Emotio was the biggest, most popular band, to Barrack’s knowledge, in existence, and Barrack could see why. With their undeniably good music, different sound, and unquestionable sex appeal, Emotio was a powerhouse. The fact that all the members were gay hadn’t impacted their audience in the least. It seemed to only add to their ever-growing fan base.

Barrack's head fell back to rest against his truck, his eyes closing and the warm Texas sunbathing his face in almost unpleasant heat.

 _The energy of the crowd and passion from the band was infectious. Barrack stood as close to the stage as he could. His body ached and his eyes itched with need for sleep after a long day at work then the concert, but it was worth it. Seeing_ him _made it worth it._

_He headed for the VIP line forming next to where NRG Stadium kept their performance stage when not in use. Other bodies ran into him, one group nearly running him over with their purple VIP passes swinging from their necks. Barrack shook his head. Purple badges like theirs only allowed them into VIP after-show signings, nothing special. Black was the next level up, with after-show backstage access and a gift signed from all the band members for Christmas. White, like his, allowed backstage access before and after shows, as well as the yearly gifts at Christmas and the holder's birthday, plus special one-on-one time with the band at a scheduled party near Halloween._

_The organizers broke up the white badges into groups of seven per party to allow more one-on-one time. Hence, only twenty-one people had a white VIP badge. If a white badge didn't come to a white party more than two years in a row, they automatically lost their white VIP status since other people would use it to its full advantage, like him._

_"Hey Barrack!"_

_He turned to see Holt, the band's head of security, waving him over, then shouldered his way through the crowd, slowly making his way to the front of the line._

_"Annoying, isn't it?" Holt's voice had a slight rasp to it. He was a tall broad man with a stern-looking face and jaw. His hair looked swept back by the wind._

_The two clasped hands and Holt pulled him into a one-armed hug, each patting the other heavily on the back._ “ _If I had to deal with this all the time, then shit yeah. Doesn_ ’ _t it get annoying?_ ” _Barrack asked and gave Holt one more hearty pat on the arm before releasing him._

 _Holt shrugged._ “ _Not really, no. How you_ ’ _ve been?_ ”

 _Barrack smiled at his old friend. They had gotten close once a long time ago when they_ ’ _d been undercover, a joint task force regarding illicit drugs and a murder spree. When everything was all said and done with that case, the men had lost contact, only to be reacquainted a few years later when Emotio hit the scene._

_He shrugged. "Same old, same old."_

_Holt shook his head. "Come on." He opened the door to allow them inside. Barrack stepped into a much quieter but still busy space. Stage personnel hustled about doing whatever it was that they did. One was carrying a large stuffed rhinoceros—he didn't want to know._

_"Barrack." Rex Louis Clark, the drummer waved and Barrack waved back. The man stood shirtless with raven black hair that shined blue in the light. A white stripe accented the side of his head. The tabloids had nicknamed him 'Skunk', and for good reason. He'd been known to have a bad temper. He was talking to Luxe, the band's stylist. Why, he didn't know since the man seemed to be allergic to shirts._

_"Everyone else is in back," Holt said. "The public signing will start in half an hour." Holt patted him on the back and walked off, leading the way._

_"That's it?" Half an hour seemed like a short break after such a performance._

_Holt shrugged. "Aksel and Patryk wanted to be done early."_

_"Wonder why," he mused aloud while they turned a corner._

_Holt sighed, but it sounded more like a disbelieving tsk. He opened another door and walked inside with Barrack following behind._

_"You know you're the only fan we actually like enough to hang out with," Bishop, the lead guitarist, said from the wet bar. His silk black pirate shirt caught the light, highlighting his exposed chest. His shoulder-length bleached hair sported pink highlights at the tips, which faded up the length._

_"That one isn't so bad," Aksel, the bass player, said as he plopped on the couch. His purple Mohawk didn't even move. “You know, the small one with the funny shirts?”_

_Titus, the piano or keyboard player, threw wadded paper at Aksel, which he caught. "Do ya mean Greg?" Titus's slight Irish accent came through. His all white hair almost glowed in the fluorescent lighting._

_"I hate him," Bishop said as he took a long drink._

_"That's because—" Patryk Sama'el, the lead singer, walked in from another door on the opposite side of the room. "—he drinks just as much alcohol as you." His hair was black, the sides of his head shaved into a military buzz, and the center was long, thick, and styled effortlessly to the side. A chunk of white highlighted his bangs. Diamond stud earrings decorated his ears. He had changed from his earlier outfit into skinny jeans and a loose rock and roll T-shirt. "And even we cannot afford that." His comment won a round of chuckles and the finger from Bishop._

_The singer shook his head and plopped on the couch next to Aksel. Heavy black makeup framed his eyes, as did an elegant gray and black masquerade mask. This air of secrecy heightened Emotio's fame. No one had seen Patryk's face, not even Emotio's other members. Rumors soared over Patryk's looks, but the man in the center of it all, Patryk, neither confirmed nor denied anything. Patryk Sama'el symbolized mystery, and mysteries were intriguing._

_"Hey Barrack," Patryk said with a tiny wave, looking relaxed but tired._

_"Hey, guys." Barrack entered the room while Holt said his goodbyes. "You want a water?" Barrack asked Patryk who nodded. Barrack had to practically shove Bishop out of the way to get to the wet bar._

_He retrieved two waters, then handed one to Patryk while he sat between Aksel and Patryk. "Where's Dominik?" Another scan of the room confirmed the electric violinist wasn't there._

_Titus tossed him the wad of paper, and he tossed it back. "Good question."_

_"Bathroom," Patryk supplied with a sigh._

_Barrack looked him over. Patryk seemed to have melted farther into the couch since he sat down, "Okay?"_

_Patryk nodded. "Just tired."_

_"If I danced like you in them damn high heels, I'd be tired too." Bishop twirled in play mockery of PAtryck on stage then went back to the bar for another drink._

_Before anyone could answer, Dominik walked in from the same door Patryk had. He stopped short when he saw Barrack. "Hey." On stage, Dominik was a force worthy of the band's fame, but in that moment, he seemed tiny and timid, as if he were two different people._

_His emerald-green hair had white accents. Dominik's style was the most formal. A well-tailored suit showed off his form. The jacket was opened, exposing a white button-up shirt and loosened black silk necktie._

_"You okay?" Barrack asked while getting up. "Here, sit. You look tired."_

_Dominik smiled, but it seemed sad to Barrack. "I'm fine."_

_"Please, sit." He motioned to the spot he’d given up. Dominik meekly nodded and slowly made his way to the sofa. To Barrack, he seemed to move a little too gingerly. "Thanks," Dominik said as he passed. Barrack's gaze zeroed in on him pressing his arm to his side. A small bruise visible on Dominik's knuckles made Barrack frown._

_"Son of a bitch." Rex burst into the room and chucked something against the wall, but Barrack didn't see what it was. Barrack was too focused on Dominik's barely there flinch and subsequent wince._

_He covered it up well. "Lose a bet?" Dominik's response was more subdued than usual as he sat._

_Rex growled as he strode across the room to the other door. "Shut up," he snapped. "I'm taking a shower." The poor door almost groaned under Rex's grip as he wrenched it open, and the reverberating slam when he left sent a crack throughout the room._

_"Well he's a ray of sunshine, isn't he?" Bishop listed to the side with a giggle._

_Patryk sighed, but Barrack could tell he was watching Dominik, too. "Stop drinking. We still have the signing to do."_

_Bishop flipped him off again. "You gonna stop me?"_

_"And mess up this manicure?" Patryk waved black fingernails at him. "I don't think so. Barrack can subdue your drunk ass."_

_Bishop looked at him with bleary eyes. He must've been drinking on stage. "Wouldn't mind 'hat at all."_

_"Barrack is off limits. He's got that Willow fellow," Titus said while still tossing the wad of paper around._

_Barrack shook his head. "We're not together."_

_Patryk chuckled. "The way you talk about him sure makes it seem you are."_

_Barrack moved and sat on the arm of the couch closest to Patryk. "Well, he does have a nice ass."_

_Bishop spit out his drink. "You're gay!"_

_"No." Barrack took Patryk's water and opened it, then gave it back. "Drink that," he said under his breath, then turned his attention back to Bishop. "But I can appreciate a nice ass when I see one."_

_"We have got to meet this Willow," Titus said. "He's all ya talk about."_

_Barrack shrugged. "He's busy."_

_Aksel heaved himself up. "The fucker is always busy," he said while retrieving his own water._

_"Be nice," Patryk said._

_Aksel made a jacking off motion. "Suck me."_

_Barrack laughed, but Patryk punched his thigh. "What?" He asked then took a drink of water._

_"Don't encourage him," Patryk quipped, then took a swig of water._

_A knock on the door stole everyone's attention. Holt stuck his head in. "Signing starts in 5. Where's Skunk?"_

_Bishop giggled. "Ima tell you said 'hat."_

_"That's great, where is he?"_

_Barrack nodded to the other door. "Showering, should be about done."_

_Holt walked into the room and to the other door. "You guys get out there and I'll get him."_

_"Better you than me," Patryk said as he got up._

_The rest of the band followed with their own brand of sarcasm except for Dominik. He sat on the sofa and looked a little pale. "You okay?" Barrack asked again._

_"Yeah. Help me up." Dominik offered his hand, and Barrack pulled him up. The man seemed too light even for his smaller physique._

_Barrack watched Dominik walk. He had a slight hitch to his step. "If you ever need anything, I can help you." His eyes flicked over the smaller man one more time in concern._

_Dominik stopped and turned. The gaze that met Barrack's could only be described as broken. "You're a really good friend." With that, Dominik strode off with Barrack following. They arrived at the signing and Dominik took his place between Aksel with and one empty seat for Rex. The drummer appeared a moment later, freshly showered, looking even more pissed than he had before._

_Holt came up behind him. "Everything all right?"_

_He stepped back so he and Holt were behind the band but out of earshot. "You know what I think." Barrack didn’t have to ask what his friend was talking about. Dominik concerned them both._

_"Yeah" was all Holt said, and the two lapsed into silence._

“Hey, Bee!”

Barrack's jaw twitched. He wasn’t fond of that nickname, but he also wasn't going to tell his informant that. With a sigh, Barrack looked to Mitch. A quick glance around confirmed what Barrack already knew: Calhoun, his partner, was nowhere in sight.

“What’s up, Mitch?” They clasped wrists and pulled away quickly, their fingers skimming over the other’s wrist and palm.

“Nothing much, Bee.”

Barrack would have classified Mitch as an attractive young man, half white and half black, if Barrack swung that way. Mitch nicknamed him Bee because he hovered and pestered like a bee. Barrack didn’t agree with that at all, but he would tolerate it from Mitch. If anyone else besides Mitch called him that he'd have punched them. Well, maybe Willow could but he didn’t count.

“You have info for me?” Barrack pretended to look through his cell phone. If he didn’t seem occupied, Mitch would chat his ear off or at least leave it a bloody oozing mess. Occupied was best.

“Nah, it got canceled. Squealers turnin’. Don’t be surprised none if bodies show up with bullets in ‘em. I heard things got nasty. I’ll let you know if anything else pops up.”

Barrack perked at the news. "Squealers? Do you mean spies in other gangs?"

Mitch shrugged. "Sortuh. What do you care about us anyway? You're homicide, not GU."

"No, I'm not." Barrack reached back into his open window and pulled out a black trash bag full of clothes and two pairs of shoes, all in Mitch’s size. "But if I know what's going on, I can do my job better."

"A man who takes initiative. You're my kind of man, Bee." Mitch took the offered bag with a smile. “Thanks, man. I can use this right about now.”

“Be sure to look in all the pockets.”

Mitch raised an eyebrow at Barrack before he took off, walking down the street. “Will do! Thanks, Bee!” he called over his shoulder with a hearty wave as he disappeared around a nearby corner.

Barrack couldn't help but wonder what sort of trouble Mitch was about to get into. Not that he would arrest Mitch for any of it, but still, he’d like to know. The kid really was a huge help to him. Barrack knew Mitch didn’t actually need the clothes or anything, but he still felt obligated to do something. Especially since every time Mitch helped him out, it could possibly cost Mitch dearly.

Barrack sighed as he made his way around his truck, climbed inside, and cranked up the AC. He waited another twenty minutes before a taxi cab pulled up behind him. His partner climbed out with a cigarette between his lips. Barrack groaned to himself when he noticed in his rearview mirror that Calhoun was wearing the same clothes as the day before: stained jeans, a loose red T-shirt, muddy cowboy boots, and a perpetual five o’clock shadow.

Calhoun staggered up to Barrack's truck, and Barrack toyed with the idea of not unlocking the doors, but didn't want to hear Calhoun's whiny bullshit, so he did. Calhoun climbed in the passenger side. “Cig,” Barrack warned.

Twisting his lips, Calhoun rolled down the window and flicked his cigarette out. Barrack rolled his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose. They were fucking detectives, for fuck’s sake. Last time he checked, littering was against the law. This was going to be a long day.

“Sorry, Invar, I was having car trouble.” Edmond Calhoun pulled out a toothpick and begun to clean his teeth. In Barrack’s truck. In Barrack’s expensive truck. In Barrack’s expensive and clean truck. Why did it matter? Because Calhoun would eventually use the toothpick to clean under his nails. Barrack’s eye twitched. “Damn thing wouldn't turn over.” Barrack's gaze zeroed in on his center console. Calhoun’s grease-covered hand splayed over his cream leather. The only thing that even remotely looked clean was Calhoun’s wedding band.

This time, his whole damn face twitched. Seeming not to notice, Calhoun shifted in his seat, crossed his arms and waited, no doubt for Barrack to start driving. So drive Barrack did. Besides, the sooner they arrived back at the station, the sooner Calhoun would get out of his truck.

Ten minutes from the office, Calhoun finally spoke up, unfortunately. “Let’s stop for coffee. Morris is making the coffee today. We all know how that turns out.” Calhoun leaned forward and began to mess with Barrack’s radio, pushing random buttons. Barrack cringed when his stereo system wheezed.

“Here, I’ll do it.” Barrack almost batted Calhoun's hand away as he turned off the satellite radio and switched to Bluetooth. He fetched his phone from his pocket. and selected his favorite band.

Calhoun snorted. “Don’t you listen to anything else?”

Barrack glanced at Calhoun out of the corner of his eye, and his grip on the wheel tightened a fraction. Calhoun was touching the window. His smudge-free window. His pain in the ass to get streak-free window.

His jaw worked and he let out a slow, deep breath. “Yes.”

"Can we listen to one of them?" The toothpick bobbed between Calhoun's teeth.

"No."

Calhoun scoffed. “You went to their concert last night, right?”

Barrack nodded, not trusting himself to answer politely.

Calhoun stared out his now-smudged window. “I just don’t get their name. Is it Spanish? Like Emo-tio. Like uncle in Spanish? What about coffee? Aren’t they all gay?” Calhoun began to pick at his teeth with a fingernail.

Barrack’s teeth ground together. “No. It’s the word emotion without the ‘n’ on the end. So it’s e-mo-shh. And no coffee. We’re already late, and I’m not getting my balls handed to me by Matterhorn. And yes, they’re all gay.”

Any conversation blessedly ended as Barrack pulled into the station’s parking lot. He parked his large F-250 in its special spot and sighed in relief. Matterhorn said it was because it was a beast of a truck for a beast of a man and it wouldn’t fit into the parking garage. He only smiled and told his lieutenant it obviously had nothing to do with him having the highest case-closing rate in the district. Matterhorn scoffed.

Barrack stepped out. He cringed when he heard his precious leather squeak under Calhoun’s weight. Barrack was heavier than Calhoun, but he’d also stepped out of the car, whereas Calhoun slid out. With his dirty jeans. On Barrack’s cream leather. Barrack shuttered in sympathy for his poor leather. Barrack and Calhoun made their way inside after Barrack set his alarm with the touch of a button.

Barrack strode through the lobby and slammed his fist over the UP button. He waited rather impatiently with Calhoun. His truck was dirty. And smudged. Barrack’s eye twitched.

Police officers came in and out of the lobby as Barrack waited for the elevator. He smiled and nodded when appropriate officers said their hellos to him and Calhoun. Mostly Calhoun.

The elevator chimed, finally, and Barrack climbed aboard, but Calhoun rushed after him just as the doors were closing. "Could've held it for me," Calhoun grumbled.

Barrack said nothing as he pushed the button for the third floor. The number was so worn down that it was unrecognizable.

Although Barrack appreciated his comrades in blue, he was more than happy to leave the officers' floor. Riding past the second level where the interrogation rooms, forensics, and the evidence locker were, he stepped forward when the elevator dinged on the top floor. Barrack marched down the hall and pushed open the first set of glass double doors on the right, the word DETECTIVES UNIT decaled across the front, along with the Houston Metro Police Department insignia.

Barrack eyed his desk, which butted up against Calhoun’s, with something close to contempt. Calhoun walked past him and sat his dirty ass down on the old, worn leather chair to lazily flip through paperwork. Barrack fought with himself not to roll his eyes; instead, he practically plopped in his chair and glared at a very dirty and unorganized Calhoun.

He swore his lieutenant partnered him up with Calhoun just to irritate him.

The thunk of a folder on his desk gave Barrack momentary relief from Calhoun’s idle chatter. “Domestic disturbance turned homicide,” Matterhorn said. “Take Calhoun and go handle it.” After his boss spun around and left, Barrack sighed. His work never fucking ended. Why couldn't people just play nice for a day instead of killing each other? Was that too much to ask for? Barrack looked at his partner and decided that yes, that was too much to ask for.

Barrack grabbed his keys and the file. “Come on, Calhoun.” Without saying a word, Calhoun followed like an obedient puppy. Everyone knew not to question him. Not even the lieutenant would cross Barrack if it was avoidable. Barrack was a bit of an asshole, and he knew it. But only just a bit.

The two men approached Barrack’s truck and climbed inside. Once settled, he backed out and drove one block over to the station’s motor pool where vehicles were impounded. Calhoun looked at him confused.

“Grab a car so you won’t be late tomorrow,” he told Calhoun.

Calhoun’s huff sounded more like wheezing as he slid out, and Barrack's leather screeched in protest. Barrack could feel his teeth grinding.

* * *

Barrack arrived on the scene and immediately spotted a Hispanic male sitting on the front concrete steps of an unkempt little house, his hands handcuffed behind his back. His white wife-beater was covered in blood and what looked to be little pieces of brain matter. Barrack's attention wandered to the ambulance and noted a woman’s hand protruding out from under a white sheet. He approached the paramedics with a nod.

“She died as we were loading her into the ambulance. We couldn't revive her.” The EMT looked young and torn up about the woman.

Barrack clasped the paramedic on the shoulder and gave a brotherly squeeze. “You tried, right? That’s all that matters.”

Nodding, the young paramedic turned back to his duties. He looked lost. Barrack knew the kid wouldn’t last long in this business if he took every death so personally. He had to learn to distance himself; it was the nature of the job.

Barrack walked up to the suspect on the stairs. Heavy footfalls behind him told Barrack who was trudging up—Calhoun. His partner's lazy half shuffle grated his nerves. “Isn’t he the paramedic who said he responded to a 911 call where a large, white snake-like cat almost ate him? That kid was high as a cloud.”

Barrack rolled his eyes and ignored Calhoun as best he could. “What happened here, Mr—” He checked his little notebook for the suspect’s name. “—Romos?”

Mr. Romos shook his head and cleared his throat. “She wouldn’t shut up, man! All I wanted was some peace and quiet, but she wouldn’t shut up! Telling me I gotta get a better job! I’m doing the best I can, yo! Least now I’ma get some peace and quiet now, right?” His manic smile told Barrack all was not right in Mr. Romos's mind. The heroin tracks on his arms were another indication.

Four more hours spent at the crime scene left Barrack feeling drained and annoyed. A standard open-shut case. Why Matterhorn had sent them down there was a complete mystery to him. Two rookies could've closed that one. Barrack grunted a good-bye at Calhoun and climbed in his truck—his now dirty truck—and started for home.

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, Barrack waved his access card in front of the keypad for his two-level loft. Hearing the distinct click, he pushed open the door.

It was 2330, and he had to be up at 0600 for work. Fucking damn it all.

He immediately heard the TV and was a little surprised to see his best friend, Willow, curled up on his sofa drinking hot tea.

Willow turned at the sound of the door. He looked half asleep and exhausted.

Barrack took in Willow’s cool steel gray-blue eyes and a sense of peace took over. He never fully realized how much he missed Willow until Willow finally came home. Willow's black hair lay casually to the left. The sides of his head, normally buzzed short, looked a little long for Willow’s standard of excellence. Barrack walked in, shut the door, and made his way over to his friend. He plopped down next to Willow quietly and held out his hand. Without comment, Willow handed over his tea.

He sighed after he took a cautionary sip and sagged into the soft black leather sofa. “Man, that’s good.”

Willow’s chuckle warmed him even more than the tea. “Would you like some?”

Barrack could only laugh at being offered tea in his own house.

Not even waiting for an answer, Willow gracefully got up and headed for the kitchen. Barrack heard the teapot being filled. The tap of the metal kettle hitting the flat stove surface. The click as the dial turned. Willow’s soft footsteps as he walked back over somehow made his house feel like a home.

Willow sat on the arm of the sofa and ran his fingers through Barrack's hair. “Tired?” Willow asked. Barrack studied his best friend. Normally, the other man hid how exhausted he was. The fact that he wasn't now had Barrack a little concerned.

Barrack nodded, confirming his own need to get some sleep. His gaze roamed his friend. Willow's heavy eyeliner didn’t make him look like a raccoon as it did most people. It only added to Willow’s overall appeal. His face wasn’t feminine or masculine but would make any model jealous. Barrack had no doubt one day he would have to track down an angry model who became enraged at Willow’s perfect cheekbones. He wore the four-carat white gold diamond stud earrings Barrack had bought him the previous Christmas.

If he remembered correctly, his girlfriend of two years at the time had dumped him and said he’d never bought her anything even close to something of that worth. Well, of course he hadn’t. Women came and went, but Willow was always there.

Willow wore a simple black T-shirt and tight, low-riding, dark skinny jeans. His cherry blossom branch tattoo grew from a gash tattooed on his lower neck, down his right arm to his hand, the branches fanning out to complement the contours and curvature of his arm. The branch’s tip came to rest on the back of his hand. His left was a complete musical inspired sleeve. Two Catholic rosaries wove throughout a treble chef and wrapped around Willow’s wrist before coming to rest near his thumb. Instead of crosses hanging from the rosaries, the zodiac symbols for Cancer and Leo took their place on the back of his hand. His and Willow’s zodiac signs.

They’d been born a month apart at the same hospital and lived two houses down on the same street. They’d met at three when their mothers accidentally hit each other’s cars just outside their neighborhood. The women became fast friends. Consequently, the boys became friends and had been ever since.

A teasing flash of more tattoos flashed at the hem of Willow's shirt. The top of his left foot showed a huge lily blossom spreading up his ankle. On his right, a tribal medical red cross. He’d toyed with the idea of getting a tattoo for years but could never settle on a design.

* * *

Willow took his hot tea from Barrack, who scowled, then went into the kitchen to fetch Barrack's own when the pot began to wail. Despite being exhausted, Willow enjoyed this mundane task. His happiness at being home, finally, was almost enough to keep him awake.

He fixed Barrack a cup and returned to the sofa. He knew Barrack forgave him when he handed over a fresh, steaming cup of mint tea. Willow curled back on the sofa and relaxed.

“Oh,” Barrack started, “I have something for you.”

Willow glanced at Barrack and took a sip of tea. “What might that be?”

Barrack blinked as if fighting sleep. He always fell asleep if he was tired when Willow talked to him. It made Willow feel special. It was sort of stupid, he knew, but he couldn’t help it. “Look in my folder on the island.”

Willow rolled his eyes in mock annoyance and put his mug down on the coffee table with a little more force than necessary. “Coulda told me that while I was over there, you know.” He wasn’t actually annoyed; okay, maybe a little bit. He didn’t want to get up again, but he also wanted to see what Barrack brought for him.

“And miss the opportunity to watch your fine ass sway again? I think not.”

Willow slapped Barrack on the knee before he walked over to the island, putting a little more sway into his walk than necessary. “Whatever, straight man.”

“Hey now. I might be straight, but I can still appreciate a fine ass.”

A small chuckle escaped Willow as he opened the file and spotted the picture. This wasn’t the first Emotio picture Barrack had given him, but he loved it just as much as the first. It made him feel like Barrack was thinking about him even when he's not around.

“So I have a fine ass?” He walked back over to Barrack, picture in hand, and curled up next to Barrack who threw his arm casually over Willow's shoulder, bringing Willow in closer.

“The finest in all the land. Told Emotio so.” Barrack joked.

Willow snuggled deeper into Barrack but continued to study the picture and smiled. “Jackass.” He play-punched Barrack’s side. “Did you have fun at the concert last night?”

Barrack nodded and sipped his tea. “Yeah, hung out with them after the show. They're on break for two months.”

“And why is that?” Willow laid his head on Barrack’s chest to look at the photograph signed by all the band members. The main caption said, ‘We hope to meet you soon! We all hear about you every time Barrack comes around! Quit working. Cum play!’ Barrack's heart thumped under his ear. The rhythmic beat threatened to lull Willow to sleep. He was exhausted from his extensive travels but wanted to spend a little more time with Barrack.

“The tour’s postponed because Dominik tripped on himself this morning and fractured his wrist. Can’t play violin with a fractured wrist.”

Willow let the picture fall, and he relaxed into Barrack with a soft sigh. "You don't think that's what happened?"

Barrack sighed. "You know what I think." He was sure Dominik was being abused but he has no proof and Dominik himself never let on. But it was the way the man interacted with the others, how sometimes he’d hiss in what Barrack assumed was pain.

"Don't we all," he said. Heaviness settled over the both of them. This wasn't what he wanted on his unexpected return home. “You, sir, are an Emotio addict.”

“Well, can you blame me?”

Willow looked up into Barrack's copper eyes. Barrack's hair was so dark it looked black, the edges barely touching his collar. With his defined features, his broad shoulders emphasized by his shoulder holster, he was overall a very handsome man.

“No, I guess I can’t. They are hot.”

Taking a long swig of tea, Barrack glared at Willow. “That’s not why I love that band, and you know it, young man.”

“Yeah, I know.” Willow settled against Barrack again, and this time, Barrack ran his hand up and down Willow's arm. He once again felt at peace since coming home. “Thank you, Bare. I love it.” He tapped the picture to make sure Barrack knew what he was talking about.

Barrack chuckled, kissed the top of Willow’s head, and rubbed his hand across Willow’s hair, effectively messing it up. Willow huffed and shook out his hair, but it fell back into place with ease. He held back a chuckle when Barrack frowned.

“Now, that’s just not fair.”

Willow sighed and moved a fraction to get more comfortable. “It’s what you get for trying to mess up my hair.”

Barrack snorted and finished off his tea with a groan. “I shouldn’t drink more before bed, should I?”

Willow laughed, his fingers tracing the edge of his mug. He missed this, this man. “No, you’ll have to pee all damn night.”

Barrack nodded as if in thought. “Come on. I’m dead tired. We’ll go to dinner tomorrow night or something and catch up. Right now, though, I want my bed.”

Willow grunted and sat up, smacking his lips. He agreed. Bed was the best idea he'd heard all night. Barrack stood and stretched, then headed to the kitchen with both of their mugs to place them in the sink. Willow was grateful. He didn’t want to go back into the kitchen again for third time.

Barrack walked past Willow, "Come on." He motioned for Willow to follow. "There's no way you're making it to your place 'cause it's _so far._ " Willow chuckled and shook his head. He lived down the hall and around the corner. It'd been a joke about how far they lived from each other since they moved in.

Once in the bedroom, Barrack stripped his gun and holster and placed it on a hook next to the door. Willow’s fingers grazed the hook; he’d helped Barrack install it when they moved in. Barrack’s clothes followed with a little less ceremony as he tossed them on the floor on his way to the bathroom. Barrack set about his nightly routine, and Willow listened. He missed the routine, the pattern to life one has when settled in a place called home. Willow had a home, yes, but he didn’t have a life at home. It was rather depressing, honestly.

Barrack exited the bathroom, and Willow filtered in to brush his teeth with the spare toothbrush. He heard Barrack climb into bed as he finished brushing his teeth and simply watched Barrack a moment. He lay in bed, the covers pulled to his waist, staring at the black and silver fan above. Willow smiled, though he knew his own smile wasn’t a truly happy one. Fans always captivated Barrack when he was this tired, and it was something Willow missed seeing.

Willow sighed and turned off the light as he exited the bathroom. He climbed into bed with Barrack and settled down. A chill sent a shiver down his spine. Willow pulled the covers closer around himself.

“Come here.” Barrack pulled Willow against himself and rubbed his hand up and down Willow’s back. It felt good. Barrack tucked Willow’s head under his chin, and Willow snuggled down. Barrack pulled the covers up to Willow’s shoulders and the chill began to dissipate.

“This is why I keep you around. You’re my personal heater.” He teased as a tiny shiver took over.

Barrack’s deep laugh vibrated along Willow’s cheek. “I see how it is, then.” Willow felt Barrack relax too, all the while making sure to hold Willow close.

“Thanks, Bear.”

“Anytime.”

Both men drifted off to sleep and Willow felt happy to finally be home. If only for a little while.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barrack - like an army barrack.
> 
> sagekazankov.wordpress.com

In the blissful state between sleep and full-on knowing it was Thursday, Barrack smelled something delicious. A frown creased his brow as he opened his eyes. The rest of his bed was disheveled, reminding Barrack of Willow’s presence. He smiled to himself. This morning, Willow was home and he was making breakfast.

With a groan, Barrack sat up and ruffled his hair. He found a pair of running shorts and made his way into the kitchen where Willow stood wearing one of his large white undershirts. When the light hit just right, the old shirt was near transparent. It barely covered Willow’s ass. He half smiled and shook his head.

Willow’s intricate dragon tattoo wound up around his left leg and disappeared just under his buttocks and Barrack knew it then wrapped around the front of Willow's body just above his pelvis. A coil dipped dangerously low toward his man parts before slithering around the right side of his rib cage where it came to rest on Willow's right shoulder. The long, serrated, blood-covered teeth of the dragon poised over a group of old raised scars. It looked like the dragon was about to reopen old wounds. Just above the dragon’s head and a tad to the left, the cherry blossom branch grew from a previous dragon gash. Willow had received those scars when they’d been in their late teens, from a group of boys who’d harassed him for being gay.

“Before you say anything,” Willow stated, not even turning around from the stove but waving a spatula at Barrack over his shoulder. “I didn’t want to go  _ all _ the way home to get clothes and I didn’t have anything here to wear. All my good things seem to end up at your house for some reason, but I think I took them all with me last time.”

“I wasn’t gonna say a word.” Barrack sat at one of the bar stools next to the island. A cup of steaming coffee waited for him. A small sip told Barrack the coffee was just the right temperature and had the perfect amount of whatever Willow put in it.

“Totally don’t believe you.” Willow flipped Barrack off over his shoulder.

A belly deep laugh shook Barrack. “Lazy ass.”

Willow spun around and glared at Barrack, one hand on his hip and the other pointing his spatula threateningly at Barrack. “What was that?”

Almost coughing on his mouthful of coffee, Barrack tried his best to look innocent. “I didn’t say anything. Nope. Nothing at all.”

Willow snorted but turned back to his cooking. Barrack was happy Willow was home doing ordinary mundane things, like cooking breakfast. He knew Willow forgot the simple things in life. It was easy in Willow's line of work.

Barrack contented himself with drinking his coffee and watching Willow run around his kitchen. He would help, but over the years, Barrack had learned to simply sit back and observe. When Willow was in the kitchen, stay away.

Willow flipped some fluffy pancakes onto a plate and gave them to Barrack. He turned for the oven and retrieved the pan of homemade cinnamon rolls. They were some of Barrack favorites, and his mouth watered. He had missed Willow’s confections.

Barrack couldn’t help but notice his favorite pancakes: apple cinnamon. Barrack was more than pleased when the syrup came out warm. “You didn’t have to heat it, you know.” The morning was just about perfect. It had been too long since he had enjoyed Willow’s cooking.

With a half shrug, Willow sat next to Barrack with his own plate of pancakes and coffee. “I know, but I miss cooking.”

“Shit, Willow, I miss your cooking.” Popping a bite of apple cinnamon pancakes into his mouth, he couldn’t help his groan of delight as they melted on his tongue.

“Bear, you cook better than I do.”

“Hmmm, this might be true, but I can’t seem to get my pancakes like you can. You are definitely king of all pancakes.” Barrack held up his coffee mug. “Cheers to the king of all pancakes.” Their mugs clinked, and Willow laughed, making Barrack feel good. He loved when Willow laughed.

“You’re so stupid.” Willow looked at him from under messy bedhead hair.

“Aww, well, it’s one of my many charms.”

Willow chuckled softly before taking a bite of pancake. “So, how’s life?”

Barrack took another bite of pancake and eyed Willow, quirking a brow. “Livable. Things just seem to be much better when you’re around, though. Like food for one thing.”

Barrack noticed out of the corner of his eye, Willow's long black eyelashes fanned down. His posture, once straight, now seemed slightly hunched. Willow dug the heel of his hand just under his rib cage on the left side, and he gave a small wince.

“Are you okay?”

Willow looked up as if shocked. “Yeah, I’m fine, Bear, no worries.” Willow looked back down to his plate, obviously dismissing Barrack’s concern.

“Are you sure?”

Those blue-gray steel eyes turned to him. The smile Willow graced him with helped to settle Barrack's unease. “I’m fine. Now, how’s work?”

Barrack’s indignant scoff made Willow jerk away; it was a subtle action. “Fine, if it weren’t for Calhoun. He’s always late and just doesn’t give a shit. He rode with me yesterday, and I damn near had a heart attack ‘cause he kept fiddling with my stuff and touching my windows.”

“Ouch, don’t do that.”

“Exactly! I had the overnight valets take it to get it washed and detailed. Cost me three times extra, but at least the damn thing is clean.”

Willow laughed and held up his hand to cover his full mouth. “Shit, man, you and that truck. I bet you could probably eat off the damn thing it’s so clean. Good thing you're savvy.” Willow got up to pour himself more coffee and add just the right amount of creamer, honey, and brown sugar. Barrack knew Willow was only distracting him with work talk. He let Willow have this. Just once.

Barrack watched Willow for any signs of discomfort. If he’d learned anything about his best friend over the years, it was when Willow felt off, he sure as hell wasn't going to say anything. Barrack had to watch Willow like a hawk. Like he was doing now. Covertly, of course.

Stuffing his last bite of pancake into his mouth, he squinted at Willow. “Yeah, probably could, but if you did, I’d be forced to handcuff you and tickle you to death. Anyone else, I’d shoot them.”

Willow laughed as he sat down. “I guess I should be grateful to be me.”

Barrack sipped his coffee. “Only twenty-five years of friendship saves you.”

“Well shit, good thing I started early.” Willow set his coffee down to fuss with his hair. It was a habit Barrack knew meant Willow was trying to distract himself from something. What that something was, Barrack had no idea.

Whatever Willow was about to say was cut off by the front door slamming open, startling both men.

Barrack had the right mind  _ not _ to reach under his stool and pull out one of his hidden guns, because standing in the doorway, looking all too chipper and put together for this hour of the morning, stood his girlfriend, Isabella. He’d completely forgotten. Isabella called him two days before to set up a breakfast date.

Well shit.

Her broad smile faltered, then completely faded into a scowl when she saw Willow sitting at the island bar, drinking a cup of coffee with a plate of half-eaten pancakes. Barrack braced himself for the most unpleasant few minutes of his life.

“What the hell is he doing here, and only in a shirt? Shit, I can see his ass and balls for Christ’s sake! Did you forget about our date?”

There it was.

Looking at Isabella, Barrack was at a loss as to why he even dated her in the first place. She was without a doubt a beautiful woman. Her chocolate brown hair was streaked with red highlights, and her soft brown eyes had a warmth he’d at one time found comforting. She was a petite woman with a fiery attitude to match.

“I'm sorry I didn't know.” Willow shifted on the stool and began to push around his uneaten food with a fork.

Barrack shut his eyes in an effort to avoid the room, and he took another sip of coffee. “Izzy, I'm sorry. Willow came home last night and I just forgot.” He wanted to tell Willow he had nothing to be sorry for, but he didn't want to provoke Isabella further.

“Barrack? Can you get dressed so we can go?”

Barrack caught Willow’s grinding the heel of his hand into his stomach out of the corner of his eye. “I’m sorry, but he just got home last night and—”

“Are you seriously canceling on me, again?” Isabella huffed and switched her purse to her other arm. “I’m really understanding when it comes to your job. You can’t control that, but this?” She waved her hand at Willow. “Seriously?”

Barrack sighed. He should’ve seen this coming, but he hadn’t. Isabella had been the farthest thing from his mind since Willow had gotten home. “I’m sorry, but I can’t this morning.”

“Barrack.” She said his name like it cost her too much.

“I have to get to work early this morning.” It was a sorry excuse, and he knew that, but it was all he had.

Isabella crossed her arms. “Okay.” She nodded. "Fine." Her gaze bounced between the two of them, and something seemed to click within her. "Don't forget about our dinner this weekend. Bring Willow." Without waiting for him to say anything, Isabella turned and quietly left.

“I’m really sorry, Bear; I didn’t mean to make her mad.”

He chuckled softly, more to himself than to Willow, and finished off his coffee. “You know when you call me ‘Bear’, I can’t stay mad at you over anything. Besides she wasn't mad, I don't think.” Ruffling Willow’s hair, Barrack headed off to take a shower and get ready for work.

“Even food in your truck?”

Barrack’s laughter carried from the hallway. “Except for that!”

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Barrack emerged from the bedroom freshly showered and ready to go. Willow stood next to the island, all the dishes put away. Arms crossed, weight cocked to one hip, and leaned against the island.

“I’m so envious of you,” Willow said.

“Why?” Spotting one of his on-the-go coffee mugs, Barrack was more than pleased to see a black bag next to it. “Did you make me lunch?”

Willow rolled his eyes and gave a dramatic sigh. “Because it only takes you twenty minutes to get ready, and yes, I did.”

“Only because I don’t insist on doing my makeup or my hair, and thank you very much.” Barrack hugged Willow good-bye and kissed the top of his head. “You didn’t have to, you know.”

“But I always do when I’m home.”

“True, but it doesn’t mean I’m any less grateful. After all, one day you could decide to dump my ass!”

Willow pulled away and looked Barrack in the eye. If Barrack hadn't known Willow so well, he might've missed the flash of hurt. What did he say? Whatever it was passed soon enough, and Willow opened the door for him.

“Well, you should come with me,” Willow said.

Barrack looked Willow over again and made sure everything was all right. A small ember of what Barrack thought was hope chased away any residual hurt from Willow's eyes.

“Touché, my friend.” Heading out the door, Barrack took a sip of coffee. “Don’t forget to be ready when I get back.” Whatever was wrong with Willow seemed to pass at the mention of a date.

“What are we doing?” Willow stepped aside so Barrack could pass into the hall.

Barrack shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

Willow nodded, his hair fell across his face, and Barrack didn't want to leave. “Good answer.” He smiled and then shut the door in Barrack’s face.

“Little shit.”

* * *

Barrack arrived at the station and was in high spirits from Willow’s perfect coffee. His mood was ruined when Matterhorn handed him a case file. “You’ll have fun with this one” was all Matterhorn said and walked off. Barrack's lieutenant didn't notice his gaze of death. If his lieutenant had, Matterhorn might've rethought giving him this case. If his stare could kill, his lieutenant would've been dead a long time ago.

He turned his glare to the offending dark brown file, then dropped the thing onto his desk. He nearly fell into his seat but set down his lunch and coffee with a little more care. The first thing that crossed Detective Barrack Invar’s mind as he stared at the vexing file was that he really needed to stop getting to work early. This shit was really getting old.

Barrack sighed heavily and merely stared at the file, and eventually, somehow, the thing managed to open. Murder. No kidding. Murder in the homicide division? Whodathunkit?

Leaving his lunch on his desk was an invitation for someone to take it the moment his back was turned, just like last time. It still pissed him off to this day that he’d never found the son of a bitch who’d taken Willow’s homemade lunch. At the very least he was owed the pleasure of covert, harmless yet still embarrassing, revenge. Barrack ran his fingers through his hair and let out a long huff. His thoughts turned to Willow as he stashed his lunch in one of his desk drawers. What had been wrong this morning? Something was bothering Willow, he just didn't know what.

The case file drew his gaze, mainly the description. He couldn’t think of Willow right then. This case needed his full attention. Now if his damn partner would show up. Barrack fished out his phone from his pocket and called Calhoun. Straight to voicemail. The guy must still be asleep. He toyed with the idea of leaving a message, but the last time he had, Calhoun hadn’t even bothered to listen to it. Barrack sent Calhoun a text with all the information; maybe he would show, maybe he wouldn’t. Only Jesus knew at this point. If he were anyone else, Barrack would have filed a formal complaint, but Calhoun was older and near retirement. His partner was drained from the job, so Barrack ate it most days but that didn't mean he had to like it.

Barrack grabbed the file and left. The trip to the upscale housing took roughly thirty minutes in endless Houston traffic. The neighborhood was rich and gaudy, not the typical place for a gruesome murder. A woman stood crying hysterically and gesturing toward a house. She appeared to be shouting between bouts of screams. Barrack was in for a long morning.

As predicted, it was nearly 1500 hours in the afternoon when Barrack finally walked back into the station with a refreshed-looking Calhoun behind him. The son of a bitch hadn’t arrived until almost 1400 hours, not even a full hour before he’d headed back to the precinct. Calhoun was really starting to piss him off.

He couldn’t really blame the man, though. This close to retirement, he might slack off too after being on the force for nearly forty-five years. Plus, if partnered with a man less than half his age who had accomplished more than he had in less than a decade, he would definitely slack off.

Settling into his seat, he immediately dug for his lunch. He hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, and for a big guy like himself, that was unhealthy.

Barrack stared daggers into Calhoun’s retreating form as his partner headed for the sandwich vending machines. Pulling out a container he didn’t even know he owned, he smiled when he spotted a hand-tossed salad with a side of feta cheese and Italian dressing in the first layer. The second layer revealed all the fixings for a sub sandwich. His smile broadened at the note from Willow in one of the side sections.

_ I would _ ’ _ ve fixed the sub myself, but I know you probably won _ ’ _ t eat lunch on time and then your bread will be soggy. Then I _ ’ _ ll have to hear all about your soggy bread and I _ ’ _ m not in the mood for it, XOXO Willow. _

Barrack smiled and quietly laughed. “Little shit.”

Calhoun returned while Barrack fixed his sub and dutifully ignored Calhoun, who sat to his desk with a heavy sigh. “Damn soggy bread.”

He couldn’t hold back a small laugh; luckily he covered it up rather well with a choking cough. He also pretended not to notice Calhoun eyeing his sub. “Willow’s in town, I guess.” So much for pretending to ignore him.

“Yeah.” Best to stick with short answers. That way Calhoun would get the hint and leave him alone.

“Figured. You never pack your own lunch.”

He only nodded and tried his damnedest to eat somewhat in peace. Calhoun usually tried small talk for the first few minutes then gave up.

The wrapper on Calhoun's sandwich crinkled from the vending machine. “You know, you two make odd-looking friends. I mean you’re so manly and he’s so girly. I mean he wears women’s heels, for Christ’s sake.”

“We’ve been friends since we were three.” He left it at that because if he said anything else it wouldn't be nice.

“That is a long time. Longer than my two marriages put together.” Calhoun laughed, but when Barrack didn't, he focused on his sandwich, blessedly leaving Barrack in some form of peace. What he really wanted was to be home with Willow. He hoped Willow was sleeping. He knew Willow didn't sleep enough when on trips like this. The man was a workaholic. Others in Willow's industry always told him to slow down and take the time to recharge, but that didn't seem to work for Willow. Personally, Barrack wanted to smack some sense into him at times, but he would never do that. Maybe he could tie the other man down?

The thought of Willow, hands cuffed above his head, naked on his bed sprang to mind. Willow’s hard cock lay prone against his belly, twitching for Barrack’s touch.

Calhoun shifted in his seat, then got up. "Want something to drink?"

Huh? Barrack snapped out of his thoughts. His hard length pressed against his pants. "Sprite would be nice." He managed.

"Sure thing." Calhoun shuffled off, leaving Barrack alone.

Fuck. Where did that come from? Barrack had never thought of Willow like that before. But damn if the image wasn’t nice. He wasn’t gay but he could appreciate beauty. And by his standard, Willow was the most beautiful he’d ever seen.

He sighed, pushing his thoughts aside then opened up the file they were handed this morning.

The next hour and a half crawled by ever so slowly with a shit ton of paperwork. Exactly at 1630, Barrack headed home and left Calhoun with the rest of the paperwork.

“You can’t leave; we got all this still to do.” Calhoun sounded pissed off.

Not even bothering to turn around, Barrack waved to Calhoun over his shoulder. “You owe me for this morning. Later.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barrack - like an army barrack.
> 
> sagekazankov.wordpress.com

Barrack walked in the door only to come up short. A black high-heeled boot swung back and forth over the arm of his sofa. “About time you showed up,” Willow quipped. He sat up, and Barrack couldn’t help but smile at his best friend. Willow's hair looked teased to give it volume at the roots. He only knew that because Willow had given him two or three loud talks about hair care and maintenance, and of course the proper terminology. His makeup, as always, looked perfect. Willow stood and walked toward him; with those boots on, they were almost eye to eye but Barrack still managed to be taller. A black long-sleeve button-up shirt looked good against Willow's not too pale skin. His dark blue skinny jeans fit well with black knee-high boots. If Barrack had to guess, he’d say they were Willow’s six inchers.

“You’re not going to take me out looking like that, are you?” Willow glared at him, crossing his arms.

Barrack set his things on the counter with a chuckle. “What have you decided we’re doing?”

“Dinner.”

“Aye, aye, captain. Just let me take a shower and change.”

“Hurry up. I’m hungry.”

Barrack smirked but moved as ordered. It never ended well to keep Willow waiting.

“Damn, I wish I could look that good in only a half hour,” Willow said thirty minutes later when Barrack emerged from the bedroom. Willow’s gaze roamed appreciatively over Barrack’s black shirt, similar to his own, only Barrack’s had a silver thread detailing the shoulder. Black jeans with black leather workman style boots completed his look.

Quirking an eyebrow, Barrack snatched up his other set of keys. “Let’s go.”

The trip to the well-known Mexican restaurant down the street took next to no time at all. They could have walked if they wanted. Both Barrack and Willow received many glances and whispers as they exited his black Lincoln Navigator, Barrack's other car. He assumed it was because Willow could walk in heels better than most women.

The hostess seated them immediately. Her bright smile seemed almost false. She looked as if her day had been hellish. Both men took their seats next to each other at the square table, and Willow got comfortable, crossing his legs. How Willow sat like that, Barrack didn't know.

“Thank you, Emily,” Willow said.

The poor girl’s eyes widened with shock in the wake of someone saying thank you. “You know my name?”

Barrack’s soft chuckle made Willow smile. “Name tag, honey.” Willow pointed with his freshly painted black fingernails.

“Ohhh.” Blushing, Emily hurried off to take her place at the hostess stand.

Chips and salsa seemed to magically appear before them, shortly followed by a handsome Hispanic young man named Juan. “What can I get for you, señors?”

“I’ll have whatever lager’s on tap. What you want, Willow?” He casually leaned back in his chair, intently watching his friend.

Willow seemed focused on not looking at him and ordered an apple martini.

“Very good, señors.”

“Oh, and an order of queso.” Smiling at Willow, Juan bowed before hurrying off to fill their orders. “Why are you staring at me?” Willow angled himself toward Barrack and leaned back in his chair. He munched on some chips, one arm hooked over the back of the chair and his wrist resting lightly on the top.

“You look good.” Barrack’s gaze slowly took in his best friend. The last time they’d seen each other had been well over three months ago. That was too damn long, in Barrack’s opinion. He missed his friend. When they’d been growing up, all he had to do was walk next door and they could've talked. Hell, even a simple phone call was hard with Willow's work. Over the years, Barrack had learned how to cope day-to-day without the help of his best friend, but that didn’t mean it got any easier.

Faintly smiling, Willow shook his head, and his ink black hair fell and covered half his face. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re flirting with me, my good friend.”

“Perhaps I am.”

* * *

Barrack’s soft chuckle and words ripped the hole in Willow’s heart open a little more. His stomach ached with the piercing blow Barrack unknowingly sent his way. Doing his best to cover the pain he felt, Willow looked away. “You are silly.” Barrack told him more than once over the years that his eyes were more expressive than his face. He couldn't look at Barrack and hide what he felt. Barrack was too perceptive for that.

Willow’s apple martini and Barrack’s tall glass of beer arrived. “Fajitas?” Barrack asked. Willow nodded and took a sip of his drink, letting Barrack order for him, “We’ll have the beef and chicken fajitas for two. He’ll have four grilled shrimp on the side. No butter or seasoning or anything, and add some sliced avocado. If it’s extra, that’s fine. I’ll have flour tortillas and he’ll have corn.” Juan bowed at the waist with a smile and headed off.

“How was your day, Bear?” he asked as a deflection. Willow didn't want Barrack to pry. All he wanted was time in his own head while home; but if he knew Barrack, the man would say something eventually. He just hoped it wasn't anytime soon.

He wanted this time to be untarnished by anything. Only the Lord knew when he'd be back home for any extended amount of time. This was a blessing in disguise, and he wanted to make the most out of it.

Barrack's copper eyes fixed on him and a flush of heat took over. If he hadn’t been wearing full coverage foundation, his blush would’ve been a little too obvious. He fidgeted and busied himself with the only thing he could: his drink.

* * *

Barrack fixed his gaze on Willow’s elegant hand as he picked up his martini, his lips as they contoured to the rim of the glass, his throat as it flexed while downing the sour drink. A small granule of sugar clung to the corner of Willow’s lips. His gaze dropped a fraction as Willow’s pierced tongue licked the corner of his mouth, capturing the renegade granule. It was sexy and teasing. Willow smiled a little and took another sip of his martini. Fuck, he wanted to taste that mouth.

“That bad a day, huh?” Willow asked.

Barrack swallowed. Hard. “Yeah, this one case today… Bludgeoned to death. Female. Tied to a chair. Looks like a robbery gone bad.” Barrack leaned forward, his full weight on the table, and took a long swig of his beer. “No suspects yet.”

Willow eyed him for a very long while, his hand moving up and down the stem of the martini glass. Barrack wondered what those teasing fingers would feel like against his bare skin. “I’m sorry. I know that’s hard on you.”

Barrack’s gaze met Willow’s. His blue-gray eyes seemed to become a deeper shade when surrounded by black eyeliner. Any woman would kill for lashes like Willow’s. Most people thought they were fake, but Barrack knew different. Willow’s long bangs grazed the edge of his jawline, and he flicked his head a little, so that they shifted back and away from his face. Barrack had the urge to run a hand through those soft strands, gripping tight against Willow’s scalp and force him to submit.

Willow shook his head and a soft fake smile enhanced his looks jarring Barrack from his fantasy.

“Hey, Manny, doesn’t that guy look like Patryk Sama’el?” A kid’s voice from the table next to them drifted their way.

“Yeah, sorta, but I don’t think it’s him, man.”

“Why not? I mean, seriously, he looks just like him.”

“Because I just checked his socials, and Patryk Sama’el is vacationing in Italy while Dominik heals up. That guy can’t be him.”

Barrack softly smiled.

“Damn. Sure looks like him, though. He’s really hot.”

Willow’s gaze pierced Barrack with their mirth.

“Don’t even think about it, Bryan. The guy he’s with will probably tear off your balls. Roll your tongue back up and shut your mouth.”

Barrack’s low chuckle drew Willow’s full attention. “More loyal fans.”

His soft tease had the desired effect, and Willow smiled. “So they are.”

Barrack held out his beer. “To loyal fans of Emotio and to sexy men who look like Patryk Sama’el.”

* * *

Willow toasted with Barrack and downed the rest of his martini in one long swig. If Barrack kept talking like that, he would be hammered off of his ass when he walked out of there. He just couldn't take it.

“Damn, Willow.”

Looking at Barrack, Willow hoped his pain didn't show through. He wished with everything he was Barrack would stop saying things like that. It was too painful to be reminded almost every day of something he could not have.

It was almost a constant constriction on his heart when he was home. He was willing to suffer through it, but at times, it was almost too hard. He wanted Barrack, all of him, but Barrack saw them as friends. Even if by some miracle Barrack wanted more, Willow didn't know if he could. He was terrified of what a drastic change like that would mean. Worse still, if things didn't work out. Willow's gut twisted on itself and the gnawing pain took over.

Perhaps coming home wasn't the best idea. Then again, he'd have to face Barrack sometime.

* * *

As Willow looked at him, Barrack saw the raw pain behind those beautiful eyes once again. What had he said to make Willow upset? Frowning in confusion, he fixated on Willow’s pierced tongue as it lazily licked all the sugar from the rim of his glass. Goddamn, he wanted to be that glass. The two teenagers who were talking about Willow earlier stared as well. Barrack didn’t blame them at all.

Willow’s eyes flicked to the waiter when he brought their food. Juan, too, seemed captured by Willow for a moment, although his small sneer spoke of his distaste.

Juan clasped his hands together once the food, plates, and tortillas were in place. “More drinks, señors?”

Before Barrack could answer, Willow set his glass down rather hard. “Keep them coming, my good man.”

Barrack frowned. Willow didn't normally over drink like this. Had something happened at work? Maybe he should ask? Willow dug into his food, and all thoughts of asking what was wrong were put on hold. Willow obviously didn't want to talk about whatever it was.

Willow and Barrack ate their chosen meat in relative silence. Willow also downed two more apple martinis before finally finishing his food.

Watching Willow swirl his drink, Barrack couldn't help but feel a little lost. “Do you remember the time we stole Harold Matthew’s pen collection?” He wasn't sure why he asked. Maybe he needed to break the silence, to take Willow's mind off of whatever was bothering him.

Willow nodded. “Yeah, why?” He took another good sip of his drink with a grimace.

“I was just remembering how we both ran through Mrs. Hinkle’s rose garden and she threatened to hang us up by our toenails, so then we had her and Harold chasing us.”

Willow looked at him for a moment before a small smile broke free. “We hid from them in Darrell Laster’s garage. He found us and said we had to do his chores for a week or he’d tell them where we were.”

Barrack laughed. “I completely forgot about that.”

“I didn’t. It was a fun summer. I seem to remember you chasing me with a shoe all around campus the following school year. You got us both in-house suspension, if memory serves.”

“Hey now, you wouldn’t give me my eraser back.”

Quirking an eyebrow at Barrack, Willow finished off his fourth martini. “I needed that eraser.”

Scooting his beer mug over to lean, arms folded, on the table, Barrack noticed Juan making his way over with another round of drinks. “I remember in high school when those guys tried to pick on you after the shoulder thing.” Juan placed their new drinks and walked away with the old glasses. “Little did they know I was literally around the corner.”

Willow chugged half of his martini and smiled when he looked at Barrack. “If I remember right, you broke one of their noses and told them if they ever messed with me again they would get a lot more than a simple broken nose.”

“That I did, Willow, that I did. No one is allowed to pick on you but me.”

Willow's indignant scoff made Barrack smile. “And why, pray tell, is that?” he retorted.

“Because I have the God-given right.”

Willow quirked an eyebrow. “How exactly?”

Gripping the handle of his beer, Barrack slid the almost-full drink to the center of the table. “It becomes one’s God-given right to pick on another when one has stood by the said picked-on through everything.”

“Like the time my cat died?”

Barrack leaned toward Willow and nodded, his smile faltering. “Yeah, just like that.”

Willow leaned one elbow on the table too, his other hand in his lap. “Or the time in Colorado when we were having so much fun and I found out my grandma died?”

Leaning closer still, Barrack nodded. “Yeah.”

Blinking slowly several times, Willow looked at Barrack’s lips. “Or the time I came over in the middle of the night crying about Kelly?”

“Just like that.” Barrack pinched a section of sugar from Willow’s martini glass and sucked his fingers clean. “I thought you were talking about Kelly Reynolds, that cute girl from Chemistry class, but you were talking about Kelly Mayes, the football team’s star quarterback.”

* * *

Willow dared to lean so close that he felt Barrack’s breath on his lips. “Like when I finally got up enough courage to tell you I’m gay?”

“I distinctly remember pulling you into a hug.”

“I thought you were going to say you didn’t want to be friends with me anymore,” Willow confessed. He also wanted to close the gap and kiss Barrack, but fear kept him rooted in place. If Willow had only one word to describe the look that crossed Barrack’s face, his word would be pain.

“You never told me that. Why would you think I wouldn’t want to be friends anymore?”

Barrack’s words should’ve been heated or angry, but instead they were soft, almost a whisper. “Well, you were this big jock back in high school. I heard the way you talked about other gay guys at our school, and they weren’t even out. Some weren’t gay at all. You just thought they were. I was afraid you would say the same things about me.” Willow looked down and away, trying his best to fight the tears threatening to fall. He never wanted Barrack to hate him and back then the possibility was all too real. “I’m sorry.” Pulling back from Barrack, his fist in his lap clenched and the pain in his gut seared back to life. “I just wasn’t sure if you’d hate me or not.”

* * *

Barrack couldn't stand to see Willow crying. He scooted his chair back and stood. Willow’s eyes flicked to him, and in that brief moment, Barrack saw fear.

Grabbing the back rest, Barrack moved his chair next to Willow. When he sat, Barrack tugged Willow’s arm on the table for a hug. Willow’s uncertain expression pulled at him, “Please?” He saw Willow absently digging the heel of his hand just under his ribs again. It was a new tick Barrack didn't like.

Holding out his other arm, Barrack patiently waited, but Willow’s little sniffle was all it took and he pulled an unyielding Willow into his arms and hugged him close. He ran his fingers through Willow’s hair, and his other hand moved up and down his back. “I could never hate you. Never.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, I promise. Never.” Framing Willow’s face with his hands, Barrack forced Willow to look at him. “Understand me? You’re my best friend. Twenty-five years, Willow. Most people can’t even make a marriage last this long, let alone a friendship. We have something special here. Never forget that.”

His own words rang in his ears. They did have something special, something unique. When they were kids, they had always been together. Never apart. When Willow had left, it had torn a new hole in his heart. He’d never felt that level of pain when someone else left. Not even when previous girlfriends left for extended amounts of time. He was happy for them to leave. To give him a break from their constant needy reassurances that he cared for them. Never once had thoughts of marriage crossed his mind. He never seemed able to make a connection with anyone on the same level as he did with Willow. The need to kiss Willow came over him, to close the little bit of distance between them. To make Willow submit. To taste what was his.

That was exactly who Willow was.

His.

“Eh, your check, señors.”

Both Willow and Barrack ignored their waiter. “Okay,” Willow whispered. Barrack didn't want this moment to end, or maybe he wanted a different result. He could've easily kissed Willow right then. How Willow would react kept him in place.

“Good. Do you have on waterproof eyeliner and mascara?” Trying to diffuse not only Willow’s sadness but his own confusion, Barrack absently ran his thumbs across Willow’s cheeks.

Willow nodded and laughed. “Yeah. Never know when you’re gonna have a random meltdown after too many apple martinis or be shoved in a random pool. One must always be prepared.”

Barrack laughed and patted Willow’s cheek before reaching for the bill. “Damn, Willow, how much did you drink?” Without waiting for Willow to answer, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the money clip Willow had bought him on his twenty-first birthday. Pulling out one-hundred fifty in cash and tossing it into the check flap, he stood and shoved his money clip back into his pocket. “Come on, let’s go home. You’re slightly drunk.”

Willow nodded and stood. He definitely was more than a little drunk, but Barrack was just being nice about it. Barrack followed Willow outside and nodded to Emily as he passed. He caught her looking at Willow's boots. “Chanel,” Willow told her as he almost stumbled over himself.

Once again, poor Emily blushed, but this time at being caught staring.

* * *

Once back at Barrack's loft, Willow made a beeline for the bathroom. He was swaying a little when he walked, and his irregular steps created a weird echo over the hardwood flooring. Barrack was definitely being nice when he called Willow a little drunk. He heard the bed give way under Willow's falling weight.

"Little drunk my ass," Willow commented and groaned before getting back up to shakily make his way into the bathroom.

"Throw up on my stuff and I'll kill you," Barrack said before heading for the guest bathroom just behind the spiral stairs leading to the upper terrace. He knew he wasn't getting into his own bathroom anytime soon, so he might as well just accept it.

He thought he heard Willow say "kiss my ass" but he wasn't completely sure. Though at this point that was something he’d gladly do.

Barrack entered the bathroom and turned on the shower, then stripped while the water warmed. He needed another shower to think. He stepped inside under the hot spray and rolled his shoulders and neck automatically.

“Son of a bitch.” His voice echoed off the shower tile walls all too loudly.

Barrack wanted to march into the bedroom and take what was his. The need to make Willow submit to him rode him hard. He could imagine how beautiful Willow would sound.

Letting the hot water roll over his skin, Barrack reached down to palm his aching shaft. He briefly thought he should be confused, panicking even over urges so strong towards his best friend. But the thing was he couldn’t imagine a life without Willow. To hear his voice when they called each other or get a text from him every day. Not a single day went by without at least one text or a short email explaining things.

All of his girlfriends over the years had been jealous of Willow. They’d basically said, in many colorful ways, that Barrack acted like Willow was his “special friend.” Every single girl broke up with him because of Willow or vice versa. He would always choose Willow.

 _Because you love him_ , his mind offered.

Of course he loved Willow. For Christ’s sake, they’d been sleeping in the same bed since they were seven. Their parents had consented to them spending every other week at the other’s house. Barrack remembered his mother jokingly saying it was almost like joint custody.

He would do anything for his best friend.

 _Because you love him_.

Oh yeah, there was no denying it, Barrack loved Willow.

Barrack pumped his shaft. An image of Willow on his knees, mouth open ready to accept him had Barrack shooting down the drain. “Fuck.” He pressed his forehead against the cool tile. He hadn’t come that fast since high school.

Damnit. A lifelong friendship almost went up in flames tonight if he had kissed Willow. Shaking his wet hair, Barrack angrily shut off the water.

He needed to find out how Willow felt, but how? Barrack sighed, he was too damn tired to figure it out now. Maybe tomorrow. Yeah. Tomorrow.

Barrack headed for his room, clothes in hand and a towel wrapped securely around his waist. He found Willow fast asleep in bed. Chuckling to himself, all the anger he’d felt left him as he gazed down at his best friend. Dropping his clothes and towel to the floor, Barrack silently climbed into bed with Willow.

Without waking, Willow turned over and cuddled into Barrack. “I think I’m gonna make a shirt saying ‘Willow’s Personal Heater’,” he said to the room. Pulling Willow to him, he heard the man softly whimper in his sleep.

He smoothed the lines from Willow’s frown, and Willow sagged against him in a sigh of relief. Barrack watched Willow for a while longer, his fingers combing through Willow’s hair, every so often gently massaging. He didn’t feel himself drift off to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barrack - like an army barrack.
> 
> sagekazankov.wordpress.com

Walking into the Detectives Bureau, Barrack damn near fell over when he spotted Calhoun sitting rather gravely at his own desk, sifting through paperwork. He took a swig of coffee and stood for a moment longer, enjoying the fact that, for once, Calhoun was stuck with all the paperwork. This was going to be a good day, he decided.

Barrack’s ass hadn’t even made contact with his chair before a stack of case files plopped rather indignantly on his desk. Hard. His half inch thick stack of loose, formerly neat and orderly papers fluttered, and some floated to the bland, white, unending linoleum floors.

He’d spent a good two hours yesterday organizing the mess Matterhorn had created. His eye twitched.

Glaring up at his lieutenant, Barrack worked to not grind his jaw together. “What the hell are these?”

Calhoun leaned away from Barrack, who practically growled at their lieutenant. If anything, at least, Calhoun was smart enough to know when to piss off.

“Those…” Matterhorn waved a finger in a circle at the large pile. “Are murder cases that are similar to the one I gave you yesterday.”

Looking back at the stupid pile, Barrack’s took a deep angry breath. “And why are they on my desk?”

“Because…” His lieutenant began in a thick southern Louisiana drawl that Barrack found obscene. “Of everyone in here, you’re the least stupid.” Matterhorn walked off, leaving him shaking his head. Why weren't these connected and assigned sooner? His ego told him it was because he was the best, but his cynical side muttered very mean and nasty things about Matterhorn.

So much for the good day idea. He snorted.

Over an hour later, Barrack grabbed the stack of case files and headed for one of the conference rooms with a large whiteboard, Calhoun following him obediently. Scattering all fourteen files across the large oak table, Barrack frowned; he’d forgotten his coffee. Barrack left the conference room and took a deep breath. He grumbled to himself on the way back to the conference room. Calhoun was drumming his fingers when Barrack returned.

Spotting the mug, Calhoun nodded at his coffee. “Willow still over?”

Barrack nodded, then sifted through the first case file, not really seeing it for what it truly was. “Do you two sleep in the same bed?” Calhoun asked.

Without really thinking, Barrack automatically answered, “Yeah, most of the time.” Tossing the file into the newly formed ‘Possible’ stack, Barrack absently sipped his Dark Willow Special.

“You two a couple or something?”

Barrack tossed a file into the 'no' pile. “And if we were?”

Calhoun shifted and took a case file. “Well, of course it wouldn’t matter none at all.”

Fixing his gaze on another file, Barrack made sure not to look at Calhoun when he spoke. “Why do you want to know?”

“Well I was just curious, that’s… all.”

Barrack sighed and flipped to the coroner's report. “We're not. Just friends." And he really didn’t like that.

"You want to be." Calhoun's words drew his attention to the older man. He didn't look at Barrack as he flipped through a file.

He sat there for a minute, unsure of what to say. "Why do you think that?" Barrack finally managed. Was he that transparent?

Calhoun shrugged. "Invar, I've known you a long time, and the way you talk about him, you don't talk about anyone else." He took a deep breath, then looked Barrack in the eye. "You love him whether you know it or not." Calhoun went back to the file, acting like nothing happened at all.

Barrack was grateful for that. "Um, thanks? Now, help me look through this shit.” Thing was he did know he loved Willow. Granted, it was a fairly recent discovery.

Calhoun nodded with a laugh. "Sure thing, boss." Barrack dove into the pile of cases in an attempt to forget the uncomfortable conversation he just had.

* * *

The rest of the morning passed with case files being tossed into two piles: a ‘No’ pile on the left, and a ‘Possible’ pile on the right. The ‘Possible’ pile was much larger than the ‘No’ pile at that point. Barrack wanted to hit something.

“Well, I’ma get a sandwich from the machine. Did Willow pack you anything today? Want something?”

“No, he didn’t.” Barrack made sure to watch Calhoun for his partner's reaction. “He was really tired last night, so we just went to bed. He barely got up to make me coffee, and no, I don’t want anything out of that damn machine. It's always soggy and gross.”

Calhoun nodded. "Ain't that the truth," he said before disappearing through the door. Barrack's attempt to test Calhoun hadn't exactly gone to plan. He’d thought his partner would have said something or at least blinked in shock, but nothing.

His stomach growled; he needed to get something to eat soon. If he didn't, Willow would kick his ass later and having Willow mad at him wasn't something he could afford.

A series of catcalls, whoops, and ‘hello baby’ made Barrack head for the door, smiling to himself. He leaned his full weight on the doorframe and took in the hurricane that was Willow.

His hair, as usual, was styled to near perfection; his black eye liner was even more perfect. Thankfully, he opted to not wear his six inchers from the night before, and instead had chosen low profile black cowboy boots fitted over his customary dark skinny jeans. Barrack recognized one of his black t-shirts that Willow had taken upon himself to cut up to fit his own purposes. A shirt, which had once fit Barrack’s six foot six frame, now hung beautifully on Willow’s five foot seven. One shoulder hung from his thinner frame. The back, Barrack guessed, was more than likely cut and tied to suit Willow’s personal style. A black leather choker fit comfortably around his neck, and a long silver chain hung to Willow’s chest with a small diamond cat head swaying at the crux.

Barrack had given the cat head to Willow just after his cat had died. Barrack had begged and pleaded with his mom to buy it for him so he could give it to Willow.

Willow, like always, wore the diamond earrings Barrack had given him. His blue-gray eyes glittered with mirth when he spotted Barrack. His smile pulled at something in Barrack, something deep. He knew he would do anything to see Willow smile like that.

_Because you love him._

Breathing deeply, he cocked his head at his own thinking. This was true. He did love Willow with all that he was. They’d been best friends forever. He fully accepted he was in love with best friend but what to do about it?

As Willow approached, all the guys immediately quieted down. Everyone knew about Barrack’s best friend, Willow. “You destroyed one of my shirts?” He noticed several others look at him sparingly. Two promptly walked away, feigning other duties. No one messed with Barrack’s stuff. Ever.

Willow smiled and shrugged, a bag obviously holding lunch hung at his side. Barrack watched out of the corner of his eye as Calhoun openly perused Willow. Barrack didn’t blame him—Willow could be a bit much at times.

“It looks better, doesn't it?”

Willow’s cocky smile made Barrack grin too. “I guess so." Willow seemed to notice people avoiding them and quirked a brow. "People around here don't mess with my stuff.” Barrack indicated a scrawny looking man sitting at a desk five feet away. “Kinda his fault.”

Willow quirked an eyebrow, “Oh really?” He too looked at the scrawny man sitting at his desk. “And what exactly did he do?”

Barrack shrugged and took his last swig of coffee. “He took some sticky notes, five pens, a box of staples, a lint roller, and my favorite pair of scissors.”

If Barrack were a lesser man, the glare Willow stabbed him with would’ve made him wither into a ball, asking for mercy. “Apologize.”

Shaking his obviously empty mug, Barrack noticed as everyone in the room who heard Willow stared and waited for Barrack’s reaction. He wasn't exactly known for being the friendliest of guys at the station. Barrack huffed, turned his full attention to the scrawny man and gave his mug one final confirming empty shake.

“Sorry about yelling at you, Jeffers.”

Jeffers eyes bulged, “Uhh… welll umm… thank you.”

Turning back to Willow, Barrack quirked a brow, “Happy?”

Willow took a moment to act like he was thinking about it. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Did you bring me lunch?”

Rolling his eyes, Willow walked away from Barrack, plopped down at his desk, and twirled around in his chair once before coming to a stop. “I surely did. It’s right here.” Willow patted the black bag as he crossed his legs.

Barrack grabbed a spare chair and placed it at his desk. “What’d you bring me?” As he’d thought, almost the whole back of his shirt was now gone, exposing a giant vee section of Willow’s back, effectively showing off his dragon’s head and a bunch of raised scars. Hot damn if it wasn’t sexy. He always had a thing for a woman’s back. To him, it was one of the sexiest parts on a woman, but Willow sure as hell could pull it off spectacularly. Barrack wanted to run his tongue along Willow’s spine and kiss every scar, nibble his nape.

Fuck, he was getting hard.

“Since I was working—” Willow began to take out to-go containers. “—you know, making phone calls, checking emails, and did a little writing, I didn’t have time to make you anything so I bought barbecue instead.”

Smiling at Willow, Barrack opened a box of pork ribs and a loaded baked potato with barbecue sauce. He took a few bites of potato and fought a moan of delight. “Do you wanna stay for lunch?”

Willow shook his head as if saying no, and his bangs brushed the edge of his chin. Barrack had the urge to grip Willow’s throat and kiss him. “That’s why I got enough for both of us.”

“Good.” Barrack noticed out of the corner of his eye several of his fellow detectives staring again. Others took extra care not to look at them. Barrack chuckled. This was the first time Willow had showed up at his work in a very long time. There wasn't any agreement that Willow stay away, it just happened. Now Barrack didn't know why he’d never invited Willow in the first place.

“Duh. You love my company.”

Barrack smiled and stretched out his leg in an attempt to alleviate his aching half hard cock “Little shit.”

Willow unpacked the rest of their lunch. Barrack watched him, a faint smile on his face. Barrack tore off a piece of the pork to distract himself from watching Willow move.

“This might be true, but I am loved, so it’s all good. This is yours, by the way.” Willow handed Barrack some plastic ware. Barrack set about mixing up the potato to his liking. He was happy Willow was finally able to come and see him at work. Usually he would take days off so they could spend time together. This time, Willow's return home wasn't planned, and Barrack couldn't get the time off if he tried. Barrack wished they could go do something. A mini vacation would be nice, an actual vacation away from all this chaos.

Barrack could see Calhoun glancing at them. Others in the station also stared in disbelief at Barrack’s seemingly relaxed state.

Barrack used to be in love with his job. He was once one of the friendliest, well liked guys in the bureau. As his closing rate had increased, so had Matterhorn’s grip on him. With every solved case, Matterhorn looked better and better to the commander. Over the years, Barrack had become more resentful toward the job he’d once loved. Now, most everyone in the bureau avoided him at all costs. Once loved, he was now known for being snappy and downright rude. Except, it seemed, when Willow was around.

Barrack’s attention swiveled to two new transfers, Davids and Cortez.

“Doesn’t Invar’s friend look like Patryk Sama’el from that gay band?” Cortez asked Davids.

Willow’s mouth quirked in a playful smile. Barrack rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, he kinda does, but the hair isn’t right. Sama’el has a chunk of white in the front. That guy doesn’t,” Davids replied. The other transfer merely shrugged. They both walked off down the hall.

Barrack thought he heard mention of Emotio again, but he couldn't really say for sure.

“You know, they’re right.”

Willow’s steel eyes flicked to Calhoun. “Right about what?” Willow angled himself to face Calhoun a little better; this consequently put him in Barrack’s personal space. Just where Barrack liked him. One of the other detectives scurried away. No one got in his personal space, either. There was an invisible bubble, and no one crossed it.

“You look like him, sorta.” Shrugging, Calhoun concentrated on his vending machine sandwich.

Barrack leaned into Willow more and whispered in Willow’s ear, “You really should come to lunch more often.” It took everything he had to not draw Willow’s earlobe in with his teeth.

Chuckling softly, Willow turned his head to Barrack, their faces only inches apart. “And why is that?” he whispered back, taking a bite of pork.

Barrack couldn’t help but watch Willow’s favorite meat disappear into his mouth. His fork lingered on his bottom lip a fraction too long. “Because I very much enjoy my comrades on their toes with you around.” His voice wasn’t low enough to be classified as a whisper, but low enough to be very intimate.

Laughing loudly, Willow quirked an eyebrow. “Whatevs, you weirdo.”

Barrack smiled and didn't even try to deny it.

Willow only smiled, then finished off his lunch in relative peace. The quiet allowed the hustle and bustle of Barrack's office to encompass them. He couldn’t help but hear little snippets here and there. He tried to tune out the room and stole glances at Willow, hoping against hope Willow wasn't listening.

Willow finished up his lunch and got up to toss his empty containers in the trash a few desks away. He put his hands on his hips and glared at Barrack’s back. “Are you a dick at work?”

Barrack choked on his barbecue. Willow looked like he was on a mission. He swiveled around in his chair and looked at Willow, playing confused. “Excuse me?”

Willow pursed his lips. “Are you a dick at work? An asshole? A sourpuss? A hard ass? A disliked coworker? A disgruntled employee? A meanie head? A jackass? Is that clear enough for you, Detective Barrack Invar?”

Glaring at Willow, Barrack saw the twinkle of mischief in his eye. “I dare say, yes, I am all of the above.” Barrack took another bite of potato and twirled his fork several times. Willow playfully ran his fingers through his hair, then crossed his arms.

Barrack fought to hold back a smile as Willow approached. Willow bracketed him in the chair by placing his hands on the arms. If Willow were a woman, he would've gotten a face full of boob. “Are you telling me my best friend is a disliked jackass?” That’s not to say he didn’t enjoy looking down Willow’s shirt because he certainly did.

“The biggest jackass in the building besides Lieutenant Matterhorn, and the only reason I don’t supersede Matterhorn is because it is politically unwise.” Smiling, Barrack picked a piece of pork and offered to Willow. Barrack's gaze zeroed in as his fingers disappeared between Willow’s full lips. How the soft skin contoured around his fingers. The slight pleasure that shot straight to his core. He wanted the feeling to last and those lips on is cock. The slight tingle kept him rooted to the spot.

Willow fought a smile. He looked to the conference room he had found Barrack in earlier. “Well, that’s good to know. I’m off then. You, Sir Sourpuss, have a lot of work to do.” Grabbing his bag, Willow pulled out a fresh to-go mug of coffee.

“Oh, you are a saint.” Barrack licked the same fingers Willow had, grabbed the fresh mug, then took a long swig. If he could take a bath in Willow's coffee, he would. He’d told Willow he should open a coffee shop a long time ago, and he continually regretted that he didn't keep on Willow's ass about it. At least with a local coffee shop, Willow would be home more often.

“If you knew my sex life, you wouldn’t be saying such things, Bear.”

“Babe, I’ve heard you more than once.” Barrack inwardly growled. His seat hitched forward to help ease his too tight jeans. He’d make Willow sing for him.

Laughing wholeheartedly, Willow gestured toward the conference room with Barrack’s scattered files. “Get it done and come home. I’m going to make chicken pot pies for dinner. With cinnamon apple tarts.”

Leaning back in his chair, Barrack spread his legs and drank his coffee. “Hot damn, I’ll be home just in time for dinner. Wouldn’t miss your chicken pot pie for the world.”

Willow’s hair fell over his face as he tilted his head forward and looked at Barrack from under his hair. “Damn straight. So hurry it up. Chop-chop.”

Barrack laughed as Willow clapped his hands together. He bid Barrack and the rest of the office goodbye, then headed out the door.

Barrack sighed to himself and hauled his ass up out of his seat. “Come on, Calhoun. You heard the man: we got work to do, and I’ve got chicken pot pie to get home to.”

Walking off, fresh mug of coffee and potato in hand, Barrack headed for the conference room to further sort out the files, distinctly ignoring Calhoun’s “if that’s what the kids are calling it these days” comment.

Over the rest of the afternoon, Barrack ferreted out ten more of the twelve files, placing them in the ‘Possible’ pile, ate his potato, and drank his coffee. The ten all matched the MO from Barrack’s case the day before: wealthy individuals; heads bashed in and tied to a chair; upper class neighborhoods. They now had a total of eleven unsolved murders.

Glancing up at the clock, he sighed in relief. “I’m out, Calhoun. Don’t call me over the weekend unless it’s an extreme emergency. Other than that, consider me unreachable or dead. Either works fine by me.”

"But—"

"I mean it. You slack off enough and I cover for your ass. Emergencies only." Barrack gathered his things and left the hellish place he called work.

* * *

Barrack arrived home and was more than displeased to find his house empty. He paused with a frown. A thorough sense of displeasure and unease at Willow’s absence took over. He’d expected to find Willow. Instead he found nothing. His home felt cold and empty without Willow there to fill it with his almost constant buzzing activity or idle chatter. Even though Willow had only been home for two days, Barrack had come to expect his company when arriving home. Freezing by the island counter, his hand hovered next to his pocket.

Had he really just thought that?

He had.

Barrack sat his two coffee mugs on the counter, fished his keys from his pocket and tossed them where they might land. Today when Willow had met him for lunch, he could honestly say he was happy to see Willow. He was even more pleased when Willow assumed he’d be staying for lunch. If any of his girlfriends had made such an assumption, he would’ve been furious. Why?

_Because you never loved any of them._

Blowing out a puff of air, Barrack ran his fingers through his hair. Well, he couldn’t argue that, now could he?

“Shit.” Barrack spun around and nearly slammed his front door, heading down the hall in search of Willow.

He was so fucking screwed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barrack - like an army barrack.
> 
> sagekazankov.wordpress.com

Barrack strode down the hall and around the corner, stopping at the third door on the left. Without even knocking, he walked on in and found Willow at the washing machine.

He fought a smile and maneuvered around Willow’s haphazard piles of clothes; he even had to step over the pile closest to the door. Willow looked to be in a Fort Knox made of clothing. Heading to the kitchen to the left, Barrack reached for a bottle of Scotch on top of the fridge, then opened the cabinet and took out a tumbler. He poured himself two fingers of Scotch and put the bottle back.

“I only keep that stuff because you like it.”

Looking to Willow, Barrack tilted his head and smiled. “And I thank you for it, my friend.”

Willow’s head snapped up and glanced at the clock. His blue-gray eyes widened in shock. “Aw, shit, Bear, I didn’t realize the time! I haven’t even started on the chicken pot pies.” The heel of his palm dug into his side again.

Taking a sip, Barrack waved him off, shifted on his feet, and took note of Willow’s new little tick. “Don’t worry about it. I can see you’re awfully busy.”

Willow wadded up a shirt and threw it down, and then sighed. “I’m sorry. I just got so caught up with laundry and everything else I completely lost track of time.” He didn't even seem to notice the pressing hand.

“It’s okay. I think even God himself would lose track of time if He had to do your laundry.” A soft knock on the door prompted Barrack to answer it. He had to maneuver his way around Willow's piles of clothes, but he somehow managed.

“Dry cleaning,” the voice called.

Barrack looked around himself. “Uh, come in if you can.” Where the dry cleaning pickup lady could fit amongst Willow's piles was yet to be seen. There was barely room for him.

Thankfully, the woman was petite enough to squeeze through the door with Barrack and the clothes in the way. “Uh, the pile next to the door is dry clean only. Uh, well, the two piles. ” Leaning against Willow’s door, Barrack watched the small woman stuff a dry cleaning bag full of Willow’s obscene amount of clothes.

“Are you sure, Bear? I can make dinner and finish this later.” Gesturing with his tattooed hands to the ungodly amount of clothes, Willow looked on the verge of panic.

If there ever was a flaw in Willow, it was that he put too much pressure on himself to please everyone. Especially Barrack, it seemed.

“Do your laundry. You can make it up to me later.” The poor dry cleaning lady looked from Barrack to Willow several times. He could only guess at what she was thinking.

Willow studied him a moment before hastily returning to the ball and chain that was his laundry. Normally Barrack would make himself scarce when Willow was in laundry mode, but after not seeing his friend in so long, he was willing to suffer any consequences to see Willow.

_Because you love him._

Watching Willow sort more clothes, Barrack didn't even react to the thought. He already knew it was true. Willow was everything to him but would Willow be receptive?

“Willow?” Sipping his Scotch, he hoped he wasn't about to get his balls bitten off, but he just had to ask. Plus the change in subject would be a welcome distraction from his inner monologue.

“Hmmm?”

Barrack could tell Willow was only half paying attention. Laundry took precedence over everything else. “Do you really need this many clothes?”

The dry cleaning lady bit back a laugh but continued to bag Willow's clothes.

“Bear, you've known me for how long, and you're asking me this why?” He tossed a shirt into yet another pile.

This time the poor dry cleaning woman couldn’t hold back her laughter any longer. Her eyes snapped back and forth, horrified, from Barrack to Willow several times. Willow didn’t even notice her laughing.

“He has a point,” Barrack offered the poor woman. “I really should know better.” He winked and the woman relaxed.

Nodding with a smirk, she hurried up and gathered more of Willow’s clothes. Barrack squeezed past the woman, trying to get Willow’s cell phone on the kitchen counter. He unlocked it with the code then dialed down to the front desk of their loft apartments. “Yes, can I get a bellboy to the loft floor? Number 9? Yes, the dry cleaning service will need assistance carrying down Mr. Willowson’s bags of clothes. Thank you.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that, sir.” She never once paused in gathering all of Willow’s clothes.

“Don’t mention it, sweetheart.”

She seemed to take this without comment. Her slight sigh of relief at having the help wasn't lost on him. He didn’t blame her a bit—Willow really did have too many clothes.

The bellhop arrived and helped the poor, overburdened dry cleaning woman with her four bags of Willow’s clothing. Waving good-bye, Barrack held the door for them. At least now he could actually walk around a little.

Sipping his Scotch, he took his self-assigned post at the island and cleared his throat. “Can I help with anything?”

Willow absently tucked his hair behind his ear, searching the remaining piles of clothes. “Water, please, if you don’t mind.”

Barrack fished a bottle of water out of the fridge, Willow stepped toward him, hand out. His lily-covered foot caught the very top of one of the many piles of high clothes surrounding him, he bulked trying desperately to catch himself but Barrack saw it all going wrong. Barrack took two quick steps to catch the other man before he face-planted on the floor.

The smell of Willow’s vanilla shampoo drifted to his nose. “Are you okay?”

* * *

Willow couldn’t help his shiver as Barrack’s deep voice vibrated along the shell of his ear. Looking up, he wasn't surprised to find Barrack’s cheek a mere inch from the tip of his nose. “Uh— Yeah, I'm okay.” Licking his lips, he tried to pull away, feeling uncomfortable. This close proximity reminded him all too much of what wasn't his. His ankle did tweak a bit he was sure it was fine.

Barrack gently shook his head. “Are you sure? This isn’t the first time this has happened.”

Frowning, Willow snorted. “Do you really have to bring up how clumsy I am? I’m fine.” Trying to stand, his ankle with the medical Red Cross buckled under his weight. Pain exploded from the joint. “Son of a bitch.” He was wrong. Reaching for Barrack, he hopped on one foot, almost falling over another pile of clothes. Again. This just wasn't his day.

His stomach fell when Barrack unexpectedly scooped him up to carry him to the sofa.

“This is so not necessary, you know.” Willow laid his head on Barrack’s shoulder and softly sighed, relaxing completely into Barrack’s sure embrace. His arms wrapped themselves around Barrack’s neck. His feelings twisted. On one hand, he loved how much Barrack cared for him, and on the other, he hated it.

“You know, for something that isn’t necessary, you sure seem to enjoy it.” Barrack gently sat Willow on the sofa and snatched one of the throw pillows for a foot cushion. “Give it.”

Rolling his eyes, Willow lifted his ankle onto the pillow. None of this was necessary, but he wasn't exactly going to complain out loud. Well maybe a little for pretense sake.

Barrack strode away leaving him cold and alone. He watched Barrack rummage around his kitchen only to come back with an ice pack and a dish towel compress, and then he sat on the coffee table next to Willow’s ankle and grimaced. “It’s already swelling.”

Willow bit back his rude 'tell me something I don't know'. Barrack was helping him out, after all. “Dammit all, I have laundry to do.” Barrack laughed and Willow fought the urge to throw a pillow at him. It was just so much damn laundry.

Barrack gently pressed along the base of his ankle. His gut tightened in anticipation of the pain. He hissed when Barrack's probing touch pressed along his ankle bone. Barrack moved along to the front of the joint just above his foot. Pain shot all the way up to his knee.

"Son of a bitch." He couldn't hold in his whisper of pain. "At least this happened while I'm home, huh?"

Barrack tried his best to gently contour the pack over Willow’s injury, but it still shot sparks of pain up his leg. Barrack hummed a little. "I've done this once or twice."

"Once or twice." Willow agreed. Barrack's light touches tickled along his foot and lower leg. No one could take care of him like Barrack could. "At least I didn't break it this time," he offered, more to lighten the mood than anything else. When Barrack didn't say anything, Willow pursed his lips and looked to the massive amount of clothes. "I need to do my laundry…" Willow trailed off, needing something to talk about. Something to distract himself from Barrack. His hand pressed under his ribs. The searing pain almost seemed real.

“How about I do it? With your precise instructions, of course.” Barrack headed for the washer and dryer to attack the beast that was Willow’s laundry without waiting for an answer.

Panic bubbled up. His clothes were important and somewhat complicated. “You have to separate the darks from the whites! Once you do that, you have to separate the dark grays from the whites!”

Barrack laughed and began sorting. “Aye, aye, captain.”

Willow sat on the sofa, pouting with his arms crossed in a huff, but finally caved and started flipping through the channels. He wasn’t happy about this. For one, even though it took forever, he liked doing his laundry. The task wasn’t something he was able to do when gone.

Though what was more pressing was his ankle. It was weak to begin with, and this latest injury would complicate things. Ever since he broke it twelve years ago, it just wasn’t the same. At least, he had injured it while at home where he could easily rest.

Some show documenting music’s greatest caught his attention. Barrack usually hated watching TV with him—well most people did, since he channel surfed.

The program announced something about Emotio and Willow hoped Barrack wasn’t paying attention. If Barrack was, his laundry would take well into the evening since Barrack would sit his happy ass down and snatch away the remote.

Forty minutes later, Barrack finally finished the sorting portion of Willow’s unbelievable amount of laundry. Willow knew Barrack would’ve been done earlier, but the man’s phone kept going off. It sounded like Barrack’s investment company and not his detective’s job. He was proud of Barrack for accomplishing everything he had, but sometimes he worried over Barrack’s stress level.

Barrack rubbed his lower back with a grunt. Willow smirked and shook his head while flipping through channels.

He blinked rapidly as Barrack walked past him and disappeared into his room. Not even bothering to ask, he continued to surf through different shows. How in the hell could he have over a thousand channels and nothing be on? This made absolutely no sense. None whatsoever. Fucking rip-off.

After several minutes, Barrack finally emerged, carrying Willow’s special ankle brace, the one with the built-in pockets for little ice packs, which were a pain in the ass to try and replace. He tracked Barrack as he retrieved the packs from his freezer.

Barrack sat back down on the coffee table, this time lifting Willow’s ankle onto his lap. He carefully removed the compress then slid the brace under Willow’s angry ankle, and Willow waited for the burst of pain. Despite Barrack's effort, it hurt like hell. Willow tensed up when Barrack began to tighten the straps.

He hissed when they became too tight. He knew they weren't, but with the swelling, it felt like they were digging into his foot. Willow hated his weak ankle. It made wearing heels a bitch sometimes, but he wasn't about to give up his heels.

Barrack paused. Willow liked to think it was to give him a moment before tightening up the brace all the way. Willow flinched and jerked his ankle. Throbbing pain shot up to his knee again, and he groaned, loud. He couldn't help it. He could handle being under the gun of a tattoo artist for hours, but tweak his ankle and he was a giant baby.

He looked at Barrack to find his friend looking at him with a quirked brow combined with a small smile. It was mischievous. He blinked a moment before it dawned on him. “Shut up.” Willow crossed his arms and looked away. He just knew Barrack was thinking something sexual because of his groan.

“But I didn’t say anything.”

Willow huffed “You didn’t have to.” The thought of Barrack thinking about him like that threatened to bring his dick to life. A twinge from his ankle killed it, though. He was sort of grateful. After all, the last thing he needed was to get a hard-on right then. Besides, Barrack would never think of him like that.

Barrack patted his calf and began to gently massage Willow's toes. He was always aware of what Willow needed. _God, I love this man_ …

The spot just under his ribs burned with pain, and Willow's heart cracked.

* * *

“Aww, you know me so well.” And that thoroughly was the truth. Willow truly did. Willow always did small things for him to let Barrack know how much he cared. Take for example, the potato this afternoon for lunch. There was barbecue sauce already on it. Something he normally did himself. Willow must’ve asked the wait staff to mix it in or perhaps even done it himself.

Making a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh, Willow relaxed into his sofa. The heel of his hand absently rubbed over that one spot. “Yep. Been together forever, remember?” Barrack wanted Willow to make those sounds for him but for a very different reason.

“I remember lots of things. Now you, young man, are going to get some rest.” Lifting Willow’s other leg, Barrack swung them both atop the sofa. He stacked two pillows under Willow’s ankle for support and threw a blanket over his best friend.

“Barrack, I can’t.”

“Hush it. I’ll do your laundry.” Glaring at the shorter man, Barrack crossed his arms. “I’m willing to bet you haven’t been resting the way you need to be. And I’ll also bet you’ve been working all day.”

Willow’s blush told him everything. “But my clothes!”

“But nothing. You need to rest while you can. You don’t get surprise downtime very often. Take advantage of it, please.” Barrack let his arms relax and combed his fingers through Willow’s hair every so often, massaging his scalp. “I know how you like your clothes. Everything in cold water. Plenty of softener. Hang dry all jeans and everything that is sparkly or in any way shiny or extremely tight on you already. Which is pretty much everything. I know how you like your clothes washed. I just let you ramble.”

“You’re a jackass,” Willow mumbled, already half asleep.

Barrack sat on the edge of the sofa to continue massaging Willow’s head. It always put him to sleep. “This was thoroughly discussed in front of my bureau this afternoon, remember? I do believe the fact that I’m a jackass was completely proven.”

“Mhhhmm, at least you’re a nice jackass to me.”

“This is true.” Barrack sat a few more minutes, continuing his massage. He loved the feel of Willow's soft hair. A smile broke free when he heard Willow’s deep, even breathing.

Cupping Willow’s cheek, Barrack leaned down and kissed his forehead. “I love you,” Pausing for several moments, Barrack hoped things would work out between them. He supposed he should be questioning himself. He’d never looked at another man sexully before.

Then again, Willow wasn’t just anyone.

Willow was his, the person. The body didn’t matter to him. Though to be fair, Willow was beautiful and sexy. The fact he had a dick wasn’t an issue.

That didn't matter. It never had. It was the person inside that counted, not the body attached. So what did that make him? He wasn't going to think too hard about it. All that mattered was that he knew who he loved. Willow. A man.

Barrack ever so softly laughed to himself. So he was gay then?

He didn't think that was right, either. He just loved Willow. Nothing more and nothing less.

Running his hand lightly down Willow’s left side to the spot he favored, Barrack absently caressed the area with his thumb. Willow's new habit concerned Barrack. He didn't know why, it just did. It wasn't normal.

Willow’s soft, little moan drew Barrack’s attention. His face contorted with a frown. He pressed a little harder on the spot, and Willow moaned again. It definitely wasn't normal. Willow squirmed in his sleep, prompting Barrack to let up.

“Willow…” Barrack was concerned. He briefly entertained the idea of confronting Willow about it, but that wouldn't go over so well. The last time he’d done that, Willow had thrown a pie at him and been mad at him for weeks. He really didn't want to repeat that again. He would have to keep a close eye on Willow and this new tick. If it got too bad, he'd call Willow's parents.

Decision made, Barrack reached for the remote and clicked off the TV before heading over to the obscene amount of laundry. He paused to look at the piles of clothes and almost wanted to cry. Willow owed him for this. And the nonexistent chicken pot pies with apple cinnamon tarts.

* * *

Willow stirred and stretched. His injury made itself known almost immediately. He glared at his stupid ankle. The damn thing was always giving him hell.

Looking past his own foot, he smiled when he saw Barrack with two wine glasses in one hand and replacement ice packs in the other. He sat up, the blanket pooling in his lap, with a huff. Barrack sat next to him and handed him a glass. The other glass clinked against his coffee table.

“Here, take these.”

Willow took the two offered Advil and washed them down with the wine. He frowned at his glass. Well that was a disappointment. He noticed Barrack leaning forward. The bigger man gently maneuvered his hurt ankle into Barrack’s lap. Willow flinched as Barrack began to replace his ice packs. “I finished your laundry. Everything is all hung just the way you like it. The least you can do is toast me.”

Willow held out his glass and waited as Barrack picked up his own. With a definite _clink_ , Barrack smiled before taking a sip. “That’s better.”

Barrack replaced the last of his packs and pulled Willow to his side. His arm hung over Willow's shoulder, gently rubbing his bicep with his hurt ankle comfortably across Barrack’s lap. “I ordered some pizza. It should be here in a few. I ordered you your own small pineapple along with a large cheese and pepperoni for the both of us. Can’t see how you eat that stuff. It’s gross.”

Willow smiled. He felt a small tremor of disgust roll through Barrack at his beloved pineapple pizza. “Apple cider?” he questioned lightly, jiggling the wine glass.

Barrack’s deep chuckle vibrated in his chest. “Yeah, no alcohol with medicine, besides you drank plenty last night, don’t you think?”

Shaking his head yes, Willow smiled and another tremor of laughter traveled through Barrack that constricted Willow’s heart.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barrack - like an army barrack.
> 
> sagekazankov.wordpress.com

Barrack awoke to Willow plastered against his side. Willow's morning erection dug into Barrack’s hip, and his uninjured leg rubbed softly over Barrack’s own. His knee came all too close to Barrack’s balls, but never quite touched before it slowly traveled back down again to repeat its journey. The small ticklish sensations of each movement tortured Barrack.

Barrack bit his lip to keep himself from groaning.

Willow, the little minx, was sound asleep.

Rolling Willow onto his back, Barrack propped himself up on one elbow. Willow’s hair fanned across the pillow as if placed for a photo shoot. Willow’s lashes were a hair’s breadth away from his cheeks, and his full lips fell slightly apart in a soft pout. The slim column of Willow’s throat looked very sexy at the moment.

Barrack removed the covers from himself and Willow, and his eyes roamed his best friend, landing on the hard rod between Willow’s legs, the dragon’s coil dipping low to add to his sexual appeal. Barrack never thought one way or the other about tattoos on a woman. On females, he thought this many tattoos might be a tad too much, but on Willow, fuck if it wasn't sexy.

His fingers lightly ghosted over Willow’s chest and torso of their own accord. He stopped just shy of Willow’s hard shaft. Licking his lips, his gaze fixated on his hand less than an inch from Willow, dancing over the dragon’s body. Willow’s muscles twitched under his light caress. A soft, barely-there groan escaped Willow’s soft rose petal lips.

Barrack wondered when his feelings toward Willow had begun to change. If he truly tried to pinpoint a time, he couldn’t say. He supposed it had been a gradual thing. The joy he felt when Willow came home was enough proof. He just wasn’t ready to admit it.

Now he could. He was in love with Willow. His best friend.

Once again, Barrack’s fingers moved of their own accord and ghosted across Willow’s hard column of flesh. He wanted to grip that length but fought the urge. The first time he’d have Willow in hand the smaller man would writhe beneath him, begging him.

Barrack took a deep breath and moved away.

Willow’s nose twitched with a grunt as he rolled to his side.. Barrack leaned over and kissed his best friend on the forehead. He subconsciously ran his fingers through Willow's hair. He smiled when Willow turned into him with a sigh. Willow's fingers twitched against the mattress, and his nose crinkled.

Reluctantly pulling himself out of bed, Barrack made sure to cover Willow completely before slipping into the bathroom. He closed the door quietly and leaned against the solid wood surface. Barrack palmed his leaking erection and watched himself in the mirror directly in front of him.

His hand slid up and down. His leaking head. His balls as they swayed between his parted legs with his movements. His muscles clenched and unclenched as images of Willow replayed themselves. Willow. Sexy Willow. His Willow. Barrack gasped. His orgasm ripped through him, and his stomach and chest glistened with threads of his release.

He leaned his head back to rest against the door, and huffed out a heavy breath. Well, hot damn. No woman had ever made him feel that way. If he thought about it, no woman had ever come close to the depth of love that he felt for Willow. No one could make him feel the way Willow did. No one could give him happiness and the feeling of home as Willow could. Not even his own parents.

Barrack had always loved Willow.

His Willow.

Barrack climbed into the shower and couldn’t help but think of Willow, naked in bed. The fact that he wanted to slide back into said bed with Willow and do very naughty things to him didn’t bother him the way it probably should. If anything, it didn’t bother him at all. As he started to wash his hair, he decided not to overanalyze what he felt. It wouldn't do any good. The only thing to do was accept it. Now what was he going to do about Isabella?

He finished up his shower and toweled off, then walked out of the bathroom stark naked to rummage around in his designated drawer at Willow’s apartment for something to wear. Selecting gray gym shorts and a red shirt, he carelessly put them on. Barrack paused and watched Willow sleep for a few more minutes before heading out to the kitchen to make breakfast.

Thirty minutes later, Barrack chuckled to himself when he heard Willow hobble out of the bedroom. Turning around with a plate full of blueberry pancakes and hash browns in one hand and a separate plate of French toast with powdered sugar in the other, he placed them on the island bar for Willow.

“Do you have dinner plans?”

Yawning, Willow shook his head, his hair falling to cover half of his face.

“Good, because tonight is our dinner at Eddie V’s for eighteen thirty.”

Frowning, Willow hopped one-footed to the stool. “I hate it when you use military time.” He scratched his head as he cut into his pancakes with a fork.

“Well, I hate that you don’t use it. You confuse me.”

Willow shook his head and rolled his eyes at Barrack but said nothing. Barrack sighed and went to the freezer for some new ice packs. He turned to see Willow swallowing the Advil he'd left out.

He walked around the island and lifted Willow's injured ankle as gently as he could. He had taken out the ice packs the night before but kept the brace on.

“You’re awfully on top of things.” Willow said.

“Well, I’ve had plenty of practice. Been helping you with it ever since you broke it twelve years ago.”

He heard Willow huff as he inserted the ice packs. “No heels for you today, my friend.”

Groaning, Willow leaned his weight on one elbow. “And I just bought some new boots yesterday.” Willow was whining, and all Barrack could do was laugh.

"Let me guess: they're sexy and expensive and shouldn't be suffocated in a box?"

Willow growled. "How'd you guess?"

"It's what you always say." He moved away to get their breakfast on serving plates.

He heard Willow mumble something that sounded like "No, I don't", but he wasn't sure.

Barrack served breakfast and took the seat next to Willow. They ate in comfortable silence until a good sized dent was made in his pancakes, Willow huffed again. “I need to go to the store.”

Barrack choked out a laugh. “Yeah, you do. All this food came from my house. I brought it over while you were asleep.”

Frowning, Willow took one last bite of French toast before hobbling into his bedroom. “We’re going to the store, big man. Change.”

“Aye, aye, captain.” Barrack finished off his pancakes and French toast, then cleaned up the kitchen.

When he returned to the bedroom, Barrack found a shirtless Willow sitting on the bed. He opened the sliding wood door to the closet and found a pair of his jeans he didn't remember leaving there but that didn’t mean much. Barrack slid off his gym shorts and hopped into his pants, fully aware that he was naked. An evil idea took hold. He spun around quickly, feigning searching for something, and caught Willow staring red-handed.

Wasn’t that interesting?

When Willow was finally dressed, they headed out the door to the store. “Oh, hang on a sec.” Barrack left Willow standing rather precariously at the door and headed back into Willow’s bedroom. He emerged a few minutes later with a hand behind his back, gripping his find, and walked back to Willow.

“What do you have?”

He produced Willow’s custom silver cane, a slim, sturdy yet tarnished silver rod with a dragon slithering its way to the top, its jaw grasping a piece of rounded crystal. Its eyes shined an emerald green.

Smiling rather shyly, Willow looked away, “Thanks, Bear.”

“Don’t mention it.” He ushered a much more stable Willow out the door.

Willow half hobbled down the hall with his cane. “By the way, you’re right. My pancakes totally kick your pancakes’ ass.”

Barrack’s laughter echoed all the way to the elevators.

Two hours later, Barrack walked back into Willow’s loft with a very exhausted Willow behind him. A bellboy laden with grocery bags soon followed.

“Willow, go to bed. I’ll wake you in enough time to get ready for dinner. I promise.” Barrack cupped the other’s cheek. Barrack was pleased when Willow leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering closed. “Come, Willow. You’re exhausted.” The smaller man leaned his head forward against Barrack and stepped closer with a heavy sigh. Barrack wrapped his arms around Willow and ran his hands up and down his narrow back. “Come.” Nodding against him, Willow blindly followed as Barrack led Willow to his room. “Put the bags on the island,” he called behind him.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Invar.”

Helping Willow to bed, Barrack tucked him in. He kissed Willow's hair and bid him sweet dreams. He sat on the edge of the bed, gently massaging Willow's head. Willow almost immediately drifted off to sleep. He shook his head and got up to head into the living room.

Barrack retrieved his laptop and fired it up to get some work done.

Shuffling some papers over the coffee table, Barrack glanced at the clock. Fifteen thirty, it was time to wake Willow. Barrack moved his laptop and headed to the bedroom.

Willow lay curled up under the blankets, sound asleep. The only thing visible was his hair. Barrack sat next to Willow and curled a lock of Willow's hair around his finger. He used the tip to lightly tickle the tip of Willow’s nose.

“Nnn, stop that.” Swatting at him, Willow missed.

Willow's half attempt made Barrack smile. “Come on, it’s time to get up.”

Blue-steel eyes blinked at him several times. “How long have I been asleep?” Willow’s sleep-laced voice did wicked things to his rising cock.

“About three and a half hours.”

Nodding, Willow sat up. “Okay, I’ll get ready.”

He couldn't resist tucking Willow’s hair behind his ear before leaving.

Some hours later, Willow emerged from the bedroom, freshly showered and dressed. His makeup had taken him a little longer than usual since he did his eyeliner a tad thicker than normal. Getting both eyes to look symmetrical was a bitch.

His outfit was a little easier, a black button-up shirt with a hot pink, silk tie left loose. The center ornament, usually a pearl, was replaced with a tiny set of handcuffs. Top that off with a black blazer, tight, white skinny jeans, and a black matte-studded belt, and he was done.

He heard Barrack chuckle but paid him no attention. One workman-type boot was on Willow’s foot, but the other was in his hand, while a slimmer ankle brace was held in the other. “Ummm, can you help me with this?” Willow indicated the brace with a little jiggle. He was embarrassed to ask for help, but putting it on himself hurt too much.

Barrack's gaze swept over him, and he got the distinct impression he was being checked out. Barrack's laptop thumped against the coffee table. Before he knew it, Barrack was on one knee at his feet and his brace was taken from him.

“Have you been working?” he asked, more to fill the silence than anything else.

Willow looked down at his childhood friend and could hardly swallow. Not only did this feel like a proposal to him, he also took note of Barrack’s clothes. He wore a white pinstripe button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up to just below the elbow, the buttons a black snap pearl. His dark loose blue jeans were washed out in just the right places with black leather loafers. Willow's cock perked up. He wanted Barrack to toss him on the couch and ravish him. He was sure Barrack would be a dominant and passionate lover.

Barrack placed a hand on Willow’s hip to keep him steady. The action sent a subtle shiver down his spine. Naughty images of Barrack yanking down his pants and doing unspeakable things to him threatened to bring his cock to full attention.

“I have been since you fell asleep.”

Resting his free hand on Barrack’s shoulder, Willow licked his lips; he needed something to distract himself. “Savvy investing, huh?”

Barrack chuckled softly and took the shoe from Willow. Barrack slipped it on. But despite Barrack's gentle touch, it still hurt a little. “How do you think I can afford all this? Being the best detective ever? I think not.”

Willow agreed with a smile. “You are rather savvy. I don’t know why you continue to torture yourself with that detective job. You don’t need it.”

Willow squeezed Barrack's shoulder. He ran his fingers through Barrack's hair once and Barrack sighed. Willow didn't know if it was a sigh of solace or defeat. “I’ve been wondering the same thing myself. I used to love being a detective. Now I can barely stand to go.”

“Why don’t you quit?”

Barrack looked up at him. He looked so sad and torn that Willow wanted to do something to make him feel better. “I’m going to seriously consider it after I solve these murders.” The way Barrack looked at him said more than Willow could read.

Willow smiled. A small light of false hope made Willow happy nonetheless. “Good, then you’ll be able to come with me.”

Barrack stood and snatched his keys. Willow swallowed and knew Barrack had no idea just how badly he wanted Barrack to do just what he’d suggested. He had friends on the road, yes, but none of them were Barrack.

“That almost sold me." Barrack said. "Now come on.” He held out his hand in invitation.

Willow almost didn't take the offered hand, but he caved and interlaced their fingers. They walked hand in hand to the door, then their hands broke apart and Barrack's hand slid to the small of his back. It felt good and completely wrong at the same time, but Willow loved the feeling.

“By the way, this is the dinner we're having with Isabella.”

Willow halted and groaned. He'd totally forgotten about that. His good mood died.

“Now, now, be happy. You made us extraordinarily late.”

A small half smirk broke free before Willow could stop it. Of all of Barrack's girlfriends, Isabella seemed to tolerate him the most. No Colleen? She downright hated him. He leaned into Barrack for support as they made their way down the hall. After all, his ankle still really hurt.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barrack - like an army barrack.
> 
> sagekazankov.wordpress.com

Once settled in Barrack's F-250, Willow felt an unease gnaw in his gut. Barrack was acting weird, more affectionate than normal. Barrack always was generous with his affections toward him, but lately things had been different. He could sense more in Barrack's every action, something much deeper than before.

Willow’s heart cracked a little more with each gesture. The foundation of his sanity crumbled, and there was nothing he could do about it. His insides burned with anxiety and nerves. His hand idly rubbed over the aching burning sensation flowing through him. It settled itself just under his ribs. Willow had fallen in love with Barrack when they’d been fourteen. He’d given his heart away to a man who would not return his affection. The man that was more his brother than a neighbor down the street.

His boyhood friend.

His best friend.

“Willow, what’s wrong?”

Barrack’s deep smooth voice startled him so badly that he jumped and clutched his heart. “Jezus fucking H. Christ, you scared me.” Taking several deep breaths, he tried to calm his racing heart.

Barrack’s soft laugh drifted over one of Emotio’s more gentle songs playing in the background. “Did I?”

Willow could hear the humor in the larger man’s voice. “Yeah, feels like I ran a damn marathon.”

Barrack’s large hand nudged his own out of the way to feel his raging heart, and the touch sent a shiver down his back. Barrack’s firm pressure felt good. A little too good. “Damn, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay.” Swallowing the lump in his throat, Willow bit back the moan threatening to escape him as Barrack’s hand slowly pulled away, grazing his nipple ring.

Willow swore Barrack was chuckling at him again, but he couldn't truly be sure. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

The knowing small smile crossing Barrack’s lips didn't go unnoticed. “Our moms taught us not to lie. Spill it.”

The red light cast a glow over the dashboard. “Nothing, Bear.” Willow prayed Barrack didn't hear his voice cracking. Licking his lips, he tried to scoot away from the other man as far as possible.

“Please don’t lie to me. If you don’t wanna talk about it, say so, but don’t lie.” Barrack’s knuckles gradually turned white from his tight grip on the steering wheel. Despite his obvious anger, his voice never wavered from the steady timbre Willow craved.

“I’m sorry…” Licking his lips again, Willow felt his insides burning.

“It’s okay. Later?” The light turning green filled the interior of the car.

Swallowing, Willow knew he couldn't say no. Barrack would think the worst. “Eventually. I promise.”

Barrack seemed to accept this and relaxed into his seat. Barrack's gentle grip over his hand sent a massive wave of butterflies flying and slicing his insides with their razor sharp wings. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

Nodding was about the only thing Willow could do.

The rest of the car ride was spent in silence. It was awkward for Willow, causing him to constantly squirm. Eventually they pulled into the parking lot and the valet took care of the truck. Barrack tipped the attendant handsomely to pay extra attention to his truck. Together they rode up the escalator to the second floor, Barrack kept a firm grip around his waist; it was comforting and oddly unsettling at the same time.

Eddie V's was on the second level of one of the many buildings that made up City Centre at Memorial City. Barrack gave the hostess his name, and she smiled politely while looking up his name in the computer. The blue lighting behind her highlighted the decorative cracked frosted glass.

The lighting was low, creating a warm, cozy atmosphere for the guests. Soft jazz music played, the violin slightly off-key, came from their left at the bar. Straight ahead, the chefs bustled about, cooking in a flurry of smoke. A fine dark wood bar lined the front of the kitchen where the chefs placed the readied orders.

One of the lovely hostesses asked them politely to follow. They did, Barrack's arm still wrapped securely around his waist. As he and Barrack approached, Isabella caught sight of them. She said hello with a small wave, and her brown gaze flicked over them. Her nose crinkled as if she thought something was cute. Or smelly, Willow wasn't sure which.

Thanking the hostess, Barrack slid into the round booth with Willow sliding in after him. “Isabella, how are you?”

Accepting Barrack’s kiss on the cheek, Isabella’s gaze roamed over Willow with something that appeared very close to, dare he think, friendliness? “How are you two?”

Before Barrack could answer her, their waiter appeared, wearing a pinned red rose announcing his name: Monte.

“What's a good bottle of wine?” Isabella glanced between them. "It's a wine kind of night," she said before turning her attention back to Monte.

Willow sighed. If wine was necessary, then this night was not going to go well.

“Well, ma’am, we have A Dom. Romanée-Conti of 1997. It’s a French Burgundy with hints of soy sauce, flowers, and licorice. A specialty ordered wine, ma’am. This is only the second bottle that I’ve seen since I began working here.”

“And the price?”

“It’s $1,540 for the bottle, ma’am.”

"That's perfect." Barrack said. "We'll take it."

Isabella smiled, then leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table and folding her arms, one over the other. Her breasts came dangerously close to spilling out of her deep vee neckline. She looked content. “Perfect choice to celebrate Willow coming back into town.”

Willow had absolutely no idea what was going on. The other morning, Isabella had been miffed about Barrack missing breakfast, and tonight, she was, well, Willow didn't know.

Even though they didn't exactly get along, Willow could still appreciate Isabella's exotic beauty. Her hair was gorgeous, the low lighting picked up the red highlights, tied up in a loose bun with a yellow thornless rose with stem. Her bangs fanned over one eye just so. Her red form-fitting dress displayed her hourglass figure to perfection. Yellow high heels accentuated her legs. She was beautiful.

He knew her independence was one of the things that drew Barrack to her in the first place. Barrack once told him Isabella was like him in some ways. Maybe that's why they didn't get along?

When Barrack first told him who he was dating, Willow knew who she was. She worked at one of the nation’s top music magazines, _VAL_ , as one of the highest sought writers. He'd read several of her articles and knew she was currently pursuing an interview with Patryk Sama’el, a very hard thing to come by. At least that's what Barrack told him. Patryk was notorious for outwitting and refusing any and all interviews. The man valued his privacy. Landing an interview with him would shoot her already successful career into orbit, making a name for herself that was something close to legendary.

Monte reappeared with a chill stand for the wine and three wine glasses. “Would you care for a sample?”

"No," he said, "I've had it before, it's good." 

Monte nodded, then placed one glass in front of each of them and uncorked the bottle. He poured them all a generous portion.

Isabella talked to Monte as if they'd been friends for years. His bald black head shined in the lightning, his teeth perfectly white and straight.

Shifting her weight, Isabella uncrossed, then recrossed her legs. Pain sliced up his ankle and he jumped. “Daughter of a coke whore. Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” Barrack asked and turned to give him his full attention.

Cringing slightly, Willow folded his leg up, bringing his injured ankle onto the booth seat. “She kicked me.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn't know! I thought that was the table.” Willow heard the sincere tone in Isabella’s voice, and from Barrack's expression, he heard it too.

“Are you okay?” His tense muscles relaxed under Barrack's gentle touch to his shoulder. Barrack's massaging grip settled at the nape of his neck.

Willow rubbed his abused ankle and fought a grimace of pain. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just keep your pumps to yourself, okay?” Though to be honest, he wanted those shoes.

Isabella apologized again before Monte showed up. “What can I get you gentlemen and lovely young lady this evening?” Monte asked.

“I’ll have the West Australian lobster tail.”

“An excellent choice, young lady, and for you gentlemen?”

Nodding, Willow took another sip of wine. This bottle seemed better than the ones he'd had before, maybe it was a better year or something.

“I’ll have the Prime New York, sixteen ounce, and he’ll have the Filet Mignon, the eight ounce. We both want them medium.” Barrack ordered for the both of them. It was one thing Willow loved about going out with Barrack. The man could order for him without batting an eye. He talked to so many strangers, made so many decisions while away that when home, he didn't like talking much at all to people he didn't know.

Nodding and smiling, the overly energetic waiter walked off. Willow huffed, and his gaze followed Isabella's hand as she took a sip of her own wine. Her perfume was a slight floral scent, it was pleasant and not too intrusive, like some women's perfume.

“How was last night, Barrack?”

Barrack choked on laugh, jostling Willow. Willow thought of them in bed together and fought to keep a smirk from breaking free. Isabella didn't need to know about that. “Wonderful, until Willow punched me.”

Willow scoffed rather indignantly. “I did no such thing.”

Barrack sipped his wine and quirked an eyebrow at Willow. “You most certainly did. You were just asleep when you did it.”

Willow huffed and sat up straighter. “Then I in no way take responsibility for my actions.” He was surprised when Isabella started chuckling. Willow drank his own wine to hide his grin.

He noticed Barrack watching him out of the corner of his eye. It was weird because Barrack was looking at him as if he was a steak slathered in butter.

Isabella coughed, drawing Willow's attention away from Barrack. She was staring at them with a look of envy and maybe some sadness. Willow didn't understand it at all.

“You two sleep in the same bed?” She sounded inquisitive. The question was to Barrack, but she was looking at Willow. Willow squirmed under her gaze, unsure if he was supposed to answer or not. He fell back on an age-old tactic to buy a little time: he began to fidget with his hair.

He almost sagged in relief when Barrack spoke up. “If he's in town, we’re in the same bed.”

Willow decided to keep his mouth shut. Instead, he continued to fidget with his hair and drink his wine. It seemed like the best idea. Dealing with people was much easier when slightly intoxicated. So drink he did.

He flinched when Isabella coughed. He was sure she should be angry or something. “And why is that?”

Barrack hesitated to answer. “Because he's a human icicle and needs a personal heater."

She took another sip. "Are you trying to shock me?"

"No," Barrack said, "I'm being honest."

Willow expected Isabella to rant and rave, to do something to cause a scene, but all she did was lean one elbow on the table and cradle her head. Her other gently twirled her glass. "I appreciate that." She paused, then continued, "Can you be honest with me one more time?"

Barrack swallowed, then nodded, and Willow took another sip. Whatever she was about to ask wasn't going to be good.

"Do you want to be with me?" Her voice was strong, but there was something underneath, something close to hurt. "Just yes or no. Do you?"

All three sat in silence for what seemed a very long time. Willow felt almost numb. He thought the wine might be working. He was feeling a little uncaring. Not fuzzy as in buzzed. Just this side of blah for no reason.

"No," Barrack finally answered. Willow knew Barrack was upset, heard it in his voice.

Isabella sat for a moment. Her gaze moved between them, but Willow didn't see resentment, only acceptance. "Thank you." She gathered her clutch and stood, then started to walk off.

"I should be thanking you," Barrack said, stopping her.

She turned back. "Why is that?"

Barrack leaned on the table. "For not making me choose."

Isabella nodded. "What would you have said?"

He tried to pull away, but Barrack's arm draped over his shoulder, keeping him close, caused him to squeak. Barrack pulled him in and gently massaged his upper arm. The action reassured him everything would be okay.

"Him. I'll always choose him."

His words seemed to sink in not only for Isabella but for Willow as well. She nodded again, swallowed, then smiled sadly. "I knew you'd say that."

"Isabella, I'm so sorry." Barrack made to get up, but she held up a hand, stopping him.

"I sincerely hope you two are happy together." With that Isabella left.

Barrack took a swig of wine. "So do I," Barrack murmured to himself. It was so low Willow didn't think he was supposed to hear. At least, he thought he heard right. It could’ve easily been his wishful thinking and the numbing effects of the wine.

Nerves tickled his insides, and he licked his lips. The heel of his hand pressed under his ribs in an attempt to eliminate the burning ache. Willow's insides twisted on themselves. What did that mean?

Barrack’s statement to Isabella wouldn’t stop repeating itself in his mind. What did Barrack mean by that? His mind raced to understand what Barrack was saying. It couldn't mean anything. Nothing at all. Barrack’s arm tightening around him sent a confusing wave through him.

What if Barrack did feel something for him? Something more than friendship? That couldn't be right. He was just reading into it. Barrack was straight, and Willow would have to be content with these small levels of affection Barrack gave him. He lived off the scraps of love Barrack threw his way.

Willow’s insides burned with his inner conflict as the nerve-grinding futile hope burning within him fizzled into nothing. A piece of himself felt it like it was slowly dying.

Barrack was straight.

Willow would suffer a loveless existence if it meant he could keep the one person who truly mattered to him.

“Gentlemen, is there a problem here tonight?” the manager asked after introducing himself.

Barrack waved the manager off with his wine. It sloshed dangerously, and Willow tensed up, not wanting the deep red to stain his pants. “No, sir. Is it too late to cancel the lobster?”

The manager flicked his gaze to the kitchen. “I believe the chefs have already begun preparing it.”

Barrack hummed. "That's okay. We'll split it between us or something."

The manager smiled. "Let me see what I can do."

Barrack thanked him and the man disappeared. Willow spotted him talking to Monte; that was their waiter's name, right? Willow was feeling a little too fuzzy to remember properly. The manager probably wanted to keep them extra happy because of the wine. It wasn't exactly cheap. Speaking of, he needed more of that delicious stuff.

Dinner’s arrival pulled Willow from his inner quest for wine. The manager hovered just off to the side, eyeing poor Monte as he served them. Willow wasn't sure if Monte was annoyed or not, but he did seem to place their plates a little too hard.

Barrack’s arm only left Willow’s shoulders long enough to cut up his meal. Willow didn't exactly know if he was grateful for this moment to himself or not. On one hand, he was grateful for the warmth and the comfort. The contact with the larger man was his lifeline, but it was also his undoing. The feel of the one person he could not have so easily showing him affection but not giving him what he truly needed was confusing to say the least.

Willow ate his steak in silence. The delicious juicy meat was bland, borderline tasteless. The savory flavor never registered in his soul deep confusion. Barrack’s solid presence not only next to him, but also in their everyday lives, chipped away his soul. There was no escaping this pain. This empty feeling of hopelessness.

Willow would never admit it, but the reason he traveled so much was to distance himself from the man who could rip his soul in two with a quirky smile. The same man who could make him feel better by simply saying his name. The man who owned his heart.

His best friend.

Barrack.

He left the tip while Barrack took care of the meal. They left the same way they’d entered, with Barrack's arm around his waist. However, Willow felt confused and uncomfortable with the situation. Not to mention his ankle hurt from Isabella's kick. What had Barrack meant? And why the hell did he feel like they’d just gone on a fucked-up date?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barrack - like an army barrack.
> 
> sagekazankov.wordpress.com

The phone pierced Barrack's sleep-filled haze. He blindly searched for the phone on his nightstand, but his hand knocked the old-fashioned alarm clock and it clattered to the floor. Barrack cringed.

“Nnn, shut up, Bear.” Willow cuddled closer to his side and huffed.

Willow squirmed a little, and Barrack firmed up his hold. He grunted and glared at his phone's caller ID. “This better be good, Calhoun.”

“Bear,” Willow crooned and slid his hand across Barrack’s chest. The action grazed Barrack's nipple. “Tell him to go fuck himself. Tell him to use lube." Willow slid his leg in between Barrack's own.

Willow’s knee came dangerously close to Barrack's balls again, almost ripping a groan from him. Thankfully, he played it off. “Yeah, Calhoun, I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hung up and relaxed back into bed as best he could after a phone call like that.

“What’s happening, Bear?”

Barrack rubbed his hand up and down Willow’s back while the other ran through Willow’s hair, effectively cradling Willow’s head against himself. “Work.” Closing his eyes, he tried to prepare himself for the scene to come.

Barrack felt Willow shift up onto one elbow. “I’m sorry, Bear.”

Willow’s soft voice drifted over him, blanketing him in comfort. Barrack cracked open his eyes, and his vision focused on Willow’s face. His eye shadow and liner were smudged. The tips of Willow’s hair tickled his cheeks, his eyelids, and his nose.

Cupping Willow’s cheek, his first finger lightly traced just under Willow’s eye. “Your makeup’s a mess.”

“It’s okay,” Willow mumbled, halfway closing his eyes. He leaned slightly into Barrack’s touch. “You’ve seen me with no makeup at all. A little smudge won’t make a difference.”

For some reason, Barrack had the distinct feeling Willow was talking about more than just his makeup. He certainly hoped Willow was. His fingers framed Willow’s eye, and his finger slowly traveled down Willow’s nose. The urge to dip his thumb just inside Willow’s mouth as it grazed over Willow’s lips was almost too much. His other hand moved up Willow’s spine, fingers intertwining in Willow’s hair.

“You’re right. It doesn’t.” Using his grip in Willow’s hair, Barrack pulled the other man to lie down almost on top of himself and buried his face between Willow’s neck and shoulder. A little boy was dead, murdered in his home. He tried to fight back a shuddering breath.

He was happy Willow was home for something like this. It wasn’t often children so young were murdered. The last child case he’d had was rough. Willow being home somehow made things a little easier to bear.

Willow moved, distracting him from his thoughts. A spike of arousal shot down Barrack’s spine when he inhaled deeply against Willow’s neck.

* * *

Sensing what Barrack needed, Willow slid his arm over Barrack’s chest to trace up Barrack’s jaw to his hair. “It’s okay, Bear. Whatever it is, you'll handle it. I know you will.”

“If I’d handled it a long time ago, this wouldn't be an issue.” Barrack traced over Willow's naked shoulder, causing him to shiver.

Barrack’s whisper sent a tingle down Willow's back. His cock pulsed, leaving a wet spot on Barrack’s hip. He couldn’t help the small groan escaping his throat. His knee came up between Barrack’s legs. His satisfaction as Barrack slightly spread his legs to accommodate him sent another pulse of want through his aching cock. Barrack’s lips ghosted over his neck, making him moan softly. Encouraged by Barrack’s reaction, he shifted up and straddled Barrack’s leg.

Barrack’s eyes darkened with something Willow couldn't describe. Swallowing hard, he knew that wasn't the truth. No, he did know. He simply refused to acknowledge that his best friend could be looking at him like this. His fingers twitched on their own, lightly tracing Barrack’s jaw. Barrack’s deep inhale spoke of his pleasure. So did Barrack’s hard cock rubbing against the inside of his thigh.

The sharp ring of Barrack’s phone pierced through the sex-hazed air. It snapped Willow back to his senses and he jumped away as if shocked. Barrack growled and rolled to sit up, then snatched the meddlesome phone from the nightstand.

“This better be you calling me to tell me you’re dead, because if it’s not, then I swear I’ll kill you myself, Calhoun.” Barrack angrily ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I’m on my way now.”

Willow’s gaze stayed glued on Barrack as the other man stalked off to the bathroom; he flinched as the door slammed without a single word. Barrack’s angry voice drifted through the solid wood door, slightly muffled. He heard the other man chuck his phone into the sink.

He didn't know if Barrack was only angry about whatever had transpired on the phone or if Barrack was somehow mad at him. Perhaps it was a combination of both? Willow sighed and hugged his legs to his chest. He rested his chin on his knee, not truly seeing what was in front of him.

What Barrack would soon face hurt Willow's heart. Whatever was wrong was bad enough to upset Barrack. That usually meant someone young.

He jumped, tweaking his ankle when Barrack stormed out of the bathroom. The door hitting the wall sent a loud bang throughout the still room. He watched Barrack get ready. Drawers slammed and the door to the sliding closet almost jumped back into place from the force Barrack used to open it. Barrack almost threw down his boots. He cursed under his breath and looked around as if he’d forgotten something. Socks, Willow was guessing.

Willow thought of the moment they’d had before the phone rang for a second time. In a way, he was grateful it had because if the phone hadn't rung, he might've done something that would've changed their relationship forever. That possible change was scarier than when Barrack had literally pushed him into his career. His fear far outweighed his want or need for more from Barrack.

* * *

Barrack snatched up a mismatched pair of socks and sat heavily on the bed to pull them on. He shoved his feet into a pair of well-worn black cowboy boots. Willow sat against the headboard, staring at him, but more through him.

“Willow?”

Willow jerked as if startled. Barrack sat for a moment as Willow looked him over several times.

“Something wrong?”

Willow was thinking about something. It was evident in the way Willow was staring at him, a small frown creased his brow and he hardly moved.

A hint of fear seeped into Willow's eyes, but Barrack wasn't sure why. He almost bolted, but Barrack managed to snatch Willow by the arm. Dragging him back, Barrack searched his face.

“Let me go.” It wasn't a request but a command. Willow wouldn't look Barrack in the eye, which was unusual.

“Look at me, Willow.” He growled in the back of his throat as Willow steadfastly looked away from him, absolutely refusing to even look at his shoes. Gripping Willow’s hair, he forced the smaller man to look at him. Willow’s neck strained and exposed his slender throat.

“Let me go,” Willow demanded.

“No.” A flame of defiance flashed through Willow’s eyes a second before he tried to twist away. Barrack tightened his grip on Willow's hair, and Willow’s small whimper of pain shot a spike of lust through him. “If you knew what you do to me, Willow.” Barrack pulled Willow’s naked body to him. “You've shut me out.” Willow slowly relaxed against him little by little. “Please don't shut me out.”

He couldn’t help but sigh in relief when Willow hugged him back. “Just thinking. I promise.”

Petting Willow’s hair, Barrack cupped the back of his head. “Okay.” He knew Willow was keeping something from him. It bothered him more than it should. A fleeting thought that Willow might be seeing someone flashed in his mind, but he immediately shut it down. Willow would've told him something like that. He hoped.

* * *

Barrack and Calhoun were shutting down the crime scene when he noticed a nanny standing just off to the side with a cute little boy. Walking over, he nodded to her in greeting. “Ma’am, I’m Detective Invar. Care if I ask you a couple of questions?”

Nodding, the nanny pulled a thin sweater closer to herself. It was odd, considering it was still warm out. “My name is Ashley Vela. I work for the Bathers, two houses down.”

“Thank you, ma’am. Are you with an agency?”

Ashley licked her lips. “Si, Little Charmer’s Nannies.”

Barrack jotted all this down in his little notebook. Watching the nanny in his peripheral vision, he couldn’t help but feel that something was a little off. “Did you know the victim, ma’am?” Calhoun shouting something caught Barrack's attention. His partner was signaling something off behind the house, and Barrack understood. He nodded and Calhoun shuffled off behind the house.

The nanny scoffed. “He was a bad little boy.”

Barrack faced the nanny with a frown. “Excuse me?”

“The little boy.” She indicated the crime scene. “He was a bad boy. He never shared with any of the other children. Always mean. Very mean. Liked to bite everyone. He’s been kicked out of three daycares. Four nannies quit. Mean child.” Her thin fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sweater. “He always made fun of little Josh.” Her nod to the little boy beside her told him who Josh was. “Very evil little boy. Parents did nothing.”

Nodding, he jotted down everything the nanny said. “Thank you for your information, ma’am.” He turned as the sun set behind a house that once held a little eight-year-old boy, who’d been tied to a chair and beaten to death.

He needed a drink.

He wanted to head out, but Calhoun needed him for something back behind the house. Once he was finished, he fully intended to leave Calhoun with the wrap-up. The veteran could finish things off without him. He had left Barrack alone more than once in the last year.

Payback was a bitch.

Hours later, Barrack found himself holding a beer in one hand and his cell in the other. His new friend for the night stood next to him, trying to wave down the bartender.

Willow finally answered his phone. “Where are you? Calhoun said you left hours ago. Are you at a bar?”

Laughing and smiling to absolutely no one, Barrack leaned his full weight against the bar, waving his beer around. “Yeah, come down, okay?”

“Where are you?”

Barrack paused, really thinking about it. “Byer’s Place.”

“I’ll be there in forty-five. Don’t punch anybody out.”

Barrack smiled when Willow hung up on him. If he really thought about it, only Willow could hang up on him. Yeah, only Willow. Anyone else and he would have been furious. Well, except for his parents. They could hang up on him too, but that was it.

Forty-five minutes and four or five beers later, Barrack smiled as he noticed Willow near the entrance, looking sexier than sin, his hair and makeup beyond perfection. He wore his customary black button-down shirt. Several silver necklaces at varying lengths adorned his neck. Tight gray skinny jeans with a red belt gripped him like a vise. He wore black slightly heeled boots.

“Hey buddy!” Swiveling his head back around, Barrack embraced his new friend. Jason? Or was it Jackson? Jamie? Jamison? Johnny, that was it—Johnny, right?

* * *

Willow spotted Barrack almost immediately. He couldn't help but smile as Barrack embraced a new-found friend. Just as he thought, Barrack was slightly intoxicated. Okay, more than slightly, but Willow couldn’t blame him after what had happened that day.

He weaved his way through the moving crowd. The beat of the music was low and sexy. It pulsed in his very bones.

He was almost to Barrack when another body slammed into him, shoving his side into the bar. Hard. The air was knocked from him. Gripping his ribs, Willow cursed under his breath.

“Well, well, what we got here, boys? Looks like we got us a shemale.” Willow glanced through his bangs and groaned. He hated men like these. They were drunken bigoted assholes.

“Sure does. He’s real pretty, ain’t he? Feminine like,” the one in green said.

The man who knocked into Willow grinned. “Looks like one of them emo freaks.”

Willow swallowed hard as three large men surrounded him. He was in trouble and he knew it.

“Yeah or one of them there Emotio fags,” the third said.

All three men laughed. “Wannabe boy.” the guy in green said.

The biggest stalked closer to Willow, pressing him against the bar, “You a faggot, shemale?” Willow jumped when the man pinched his ass. If his ankle could’ve talked, it would’ve been screaming. His newly injured ribs didn't like the sudden jolt, either. “I’ll bet you wanna suck my cock.” Willow whimpered and the man pressed him harder against the bar. “Thought so, boy.” The man gripped Willow by the hair, forcing his head up. “Such a pretty faggot.” Fear constricted Willow's gut, and he could hardly breathe.

He tried to twist away, but the man’s grip became too tight. His hair felt like it was being ripped away and tears prickled his eyes. “Please let me go.” Feeling the panic rise within him, Willow tried not to let it show. One jerk-off he could handle, but three? Licking his lips, Willow’s eyes darted around, trying to catch a glimpse of anything but the foul beast holding him. The man’s friends sneered and laughed in the background.

“What fun is that, faggot?” The man pressed closer and used his grip in Willow's hair to force him to look at his attacker. The man wasn't ugly, more average than anything.

Willow’s neck strained, and his ankle burned when he tried to stand on his tiptoes to relieve some of the tension on his hair. “Won’t be so pretty when I’m done with you.”

Willow’s panic broke free. He tried to twist away again but cried out when the man jerked his hair: hard. Unintended tears fell down Willow’s cheeks. His side burned from his near panic attack. “No. Please. No. Please… You can’t.”

The man’s laugh sent a spike of fear through Willow’s gut. “Oh I can, boy.” The man’s nasty whiskey-laced breath burned Willow’s nose.

“I’d let go of him.” Willow’s relief at hearing that voice brought new tears to his eyes, these ones of relief.

The man turned and glared at Barrack; a sneer revealed one crooked teeth. “You his boyfriend?”

Barrack casually set his beer on the bar, “Yeah, something like that.” Barrack swung out with his now empty hand and landed a solid punch to the man's stomach.

Letting go of Willow, the man staggered toward his friends. Anything he or his friends were about to say was abruptly cut off when Barrack flashed his shield. “Get out.” The three looked like they were about to argue, but the bar’s bouncers backed Barrack up.

Barrack turned his back on them, instead focusing on Willow. “Are you all right?”

Shrugging off Barrack’s concern, Willow headed for the door, silent tears rolling down his face, his palm pressing just under his ribs on the left side. He was embarrassed that he needed Barrack's help and wanted to go home. Besides, he was hurting and didn't want to be at the bar anymore.

He exited the bar and headed straight for his metallic teal Lamborghini The Aventador S, keys jingling he was shaking so badly. He heard Barrack jogging after him but didn't care. He opened his car and climbed in. The adrenaline receded, leaving him with the pain in his ankle, the ache of his ribs, burning under his ribcage and an overall feeling of shaky weakness.

He jumped when the passenger door opened, but Barrack just tumbled into the seat. "Willow, please—”

Willow ignored Barrack and cranked up the newest Emotio CD, which successfully drowned out Barrack's voice. Barrack, bless him or curse him—and Willow wasn't exactly sure which—took the hint and kept quiet, his solid presence helping Willow calm down. Sort of.

Barrack’s words inside the bar, combined with what just happened and this morning's events, not to mention the fucking fiasco with Isabella the day before, plunged him into emotional chaos. Although he couldn't blame Barrack for any of this; it was entirely his fault. Willow had done this to himself. He’d basically put his love life on hold for a man he could not have. He hadn’t had a boyfriend in over three years. Shit, he hadn’t had sex in over two. All because he’d attached himself to a straight man, to his best friend.

When he was fourteen, Willow had finally accepted his true feelings for Barrack, and he’d resigned himself to watch Barrack date and love other people. He knew Barrack loved him, but Barrack wasn't in love with him, and that was what killed him inside. It drove him into the arms of men who were similar to Barrack, but none of them were the man he craved.

His last boyfriend, Charles, wasn’t exactly the nicest guy around, but shit, he could’ve been Barrack’s twin. They’d dated for about three months while Willow was in town. It had all ended when Charles had tried to hit him one night. Willow’d gotten away, calling Barrack to come get him. He made the mistake of telling Barrack what almost happened. Barrack had lunged from the truck with full intentions of putting Charles in the hospital. Willow stood in his way. He had to guide Barrack back to the truck. He felt Barrack’s controlled strength that night. That was when he truly understood what it meant for someone to be as strong as Barrack but never hurt anyone without just cause. If anything, Willow knew he could always count on Barrack for anything, including not harming him.

He pulled up to their building and tossed his keys to the young valet. Limping into the lobby and pressing his arm into his side, Willow tried to ignore the overly curious night guard. “Hello, Mr. Willowson. Are you all right?”

Willow waved off the guard, heading for the elevators. “Fine, Mr. White. Thank you.”

“Willow, please talk to me,” Barrack begged.

Willow stayed silent and leaned against the wall to rest his head on the cool marble surface. What the hell was taking the damned elevator so long?

Barrack caught up with him, a pleading note in his voice. “I’m sorry about the bar. This guy was talking to me and I didn't notice.”

Willow's stomach muscles clenched with tension. The scene at the bar wasn't the sole cause of his unease. It was everything that had happened over the last two days. He was confused and emotionally spent. “Don’t worry about it, Barrack.” The elevator dinged open, signaling Willow to climb inside. His ankle gave out on his first step.

He fully expected to fall on his ass, but Barrack caught him. Once again, Barrack picked him up. He was on the verge of demanding Barrack put him down, but he just didn't have the energy. Barrack pushed the loft level, and Willow laid his head on Barrack's shoulder.

It had been a long day. There were several things he’d had to deal with to ensure the rest of his trip would stay on schedule and according to plan. The events scheduled during his forced time off needed to be addressed as well. He’d taken care of most of it today, and hadn’t wanted to meet Barrack at the bar, but Barrack wasn’t fit to drive.

The elevator doors slid open. Barrack headed down the hall and stopped at his door. Willow wanted to get away from Barrack tonight. He needed the distance to get himself under control. “I wanna go home.”

“I am taking you home.” Barrack opened the door to go inside. He kicked the door shut once they were in, jostling Willow.

Willow sighed. “I meant my house.”

A shiver vibrated through Willow's body when Barrack nuzzled his cheek. He was so distracted he hadn't realized Barrack was headed for the bedroom. “I don’t think so. You’re hurt, and after what happened, you shouldn't be alone. Besides, you’re too damn heavy to carry all the way over there.”

If he wasn't so tired, he would've bristled over Barrack refusing to take him home. “I live down the hall.”

“Exactly. That’s too far.”

Willow sighed and silently accepted. Barrack did have a point. He probably shouldn't be alone after what had happened at the bar, even if he would have preferred it.

Barrack put him down just inside the door to the bedroom, and Barrack's lingering touch on his lower back rattled his nerves. The bedroom door clicked shut, and Willow wanted to protest and leave. “No, Willow, you live here and there. Not one or the other.” Barrack must've seen or sensed he wanted to say something.

Willow sighed. Barrack took several steps into the room, unbuttoning his shirt. He turned, shirt completely open, and Willow bit his lip. Barrack openly examined him from head to toe several times. Heat rushed through Willow like an inferno.

He was blushing; he knew it. It wasn't helping that he could see that Barrack was hard. Barrack said something, but Willow didn't catch what it was. He was preoccupied with not swallowing his tongue. Barrack was a steadfast lighthouse in the invisible storm tearing through him. His gaze roamed over him with a hunger so intense that Willow believed he would be devoured whole. Barrack stalked closer, his scent enveloped Willow, adding to his invincible torrential storm. He turned his gaze down with an air of unease. Willow couldn’t bear to look at his boyhood friend, not now.

Willow was too unsure, too tired to understand what anything meant right then. All he knew was he was confused, in pain, and scared.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barrack - like an army barrack.
> 
> sagekazankov.wordpress.com

Barrack looked over his best friend with the attention a floriculturist would his budding garden of beauty, and Willow was just that: beautiful. He had never thought he would call another man beautiful, but no other word could describe the man before him.

Simply beautiful.

How Barrack had never seen such beauty before would forever be a mystery to him. _No_ , he thought, _that_ ’ _s not true_. He’d always seen that quality in Willow. The loving tender soul. His unconscious ability to affect others around him. His helpful nature and, despite his obviously good looks, Willow had no idea just how sexy he really was. His slight air of unease. His loyal, caring nature.

He took the last few steps between them. His fingers twitched to cup Willow’s cheek. Barrack gave in and ran his thumb over Willow’s smooth skin. He couldn’t hold back a small smile when Willow leaned into his touch, his eyes shutting slowly. His shuddering breath wasn't lost on Barrack either. He loved how he could affect Willow like this. His Willow. His love. His only.

Tilting Willow’s face up, Barrack grazed his lips against Willow’s, but not quite kissing—a ghostly caress. Willow’s warm breath fanned over Barrack’s lips. “Do you want to kiss me?” Barrack asked, his lips moved against Willow’s, sending sparks of ticklish pleasure through Barrack. Willow’s eyes fluttered open to meet his gaze. A dark sexual desire rioted behind steel eyes; it was as if Willow was fighting what he truly wanted. A fight he hoped Willow would lose. A primal need to possess Willow tore at him.

Willow licked his lips, barely brushing Barrack’s own. The teasing was almost too much and a deep moan vibrated in his chest. “Fuck me,” Willow whispered. His hunger burned and he closed the small almost nonexistent fraction of a distance between them.

* * *

Willow, for his part, moaned his approval as Barrack, like always, took charge. He didn’t think such a strong robust man could kiss so gently, so sweetly. He loved this gentle, agonizing torture. All the other men Willow had been with resembled Barrack in build, but all were very rough, passionless men. He somehow knew Barrack would be gentle, a passionate attentive lover who wasn't afraid to dominate and take control.

Barrack slowly ran his tongue along Willow’s bottom lip, gently nipping and asking silent permission. Willow accepted by parting his lips to Barrack’s silent request. It was the most Willow had ever been turned on by a simple, unhurried kiss. Barrack’s large hands framed his face. His thumbs rubbed over Willow’s cheeks.

Willow shivered when both of Barrack’s hands smoothed down to encompass his neck, briefly squeezing.

Barrack pulled away from him, but Willow wasn’t ready to let him go. He sucked on Barrack’s bottom lip and held it with his teeth. He ran the bottom ball of his tongue stud over Barrack’s captive lip, and took extreme satisfaction in Barrack’s shiver.

He let go when Barrack pulled away a little more, though he didn’t want to. Barrack’s grip firmed up on his throat just enough to feel the pressure. “I want you.” A ghostly kiss from Barrack almost buckled Willow’s knees. “Please, Willow.” Barrack nuzzled Willow’s cheek.

Willow groaned and tilted his head back to give Barrack better access, hoping Barrack would pay attention to his throat. Willow’s hopes were answered. Barrack gripped his neck with one hand and moved the other to his upper arm. Nips and kisses peppered along his throat, causing sparks of pleasure to race down his spine and curl his toes. His fingers threaded themselves into Barrack's belt loops. Lust clouded his thinking, his judgment. He knew this was bad. So very bad, but right then, he just couldn't seem to remember why. Barrack had kissed away his ever loving mind.

“If you don’t, I’ll cut off your dick.”

* * *

Willow squeaked when Barrack nipped his earlobe.

“What if I get a call and I have to leave?”

Willow shuddered in his grasp and his cock pulsed. He sucked on Willow’s earlobe again and gripped Willow’s neck harder. Ne needed this man so damn badly.

“Cutting off my dick would be most counterproductive to making love to you. Wouldn’t you agree?” Without waiting for an answer, he once again attacked Willow’s throat. Barrack’s cock throbbed. Willow’s throaty moans sparked something deep within him. His cock now pulsated with his heartbeat, demanding attention.

They kissed again. Barrack pressed closer to Willow. He was happy when he felt Willow was just as hard as him. He growled into Willow’s mouth. Willow’s hips hitched against him in a slow, arousing torture. Barrack released Willow to help him wrap his slim legs around Barrack’s waist. Willow’s arms moved to hug his neck.

He slid his hands inside Willow's pants, taking firm hold of Willow’s ass. Willow, the little minx, humped Barrack, rolling his back and hips.

In three long strides, Barrack made it to the bed and lowered Willow, one arm wrapped around Willow and the other bracing their combined weight. He slid Willow toward the center with him following on his knees. Their feeble attempts at release when Barrack splayed himself above Willow drove him mad.

* * *

“God, Bear…” This wasn't a good idea. Not a good idea at all, but Willow couldn't remember why.

This time, it was Barrack who sucked on his bottom lip. “It’s such a goddamn turnon when you say my name.” Barrack growled against Willow's lips. “Please, Willow, no one else.” Barrack kissed him again and molded himself to Willow.

Bucking up to meet Barrack, Willow fought within himself. This couldn't happen. Everything would change. He snapped his eyes wide open and whatever held him captive snapped. “Barrack, please stop.” Running his hands through Barrack’s hair, he pulled gently. “Barrack, please.”

Barrack pulled back, but not completely away. “What is it?” Willow fought tears. He didn’t want to hurt Barrack, but this change in their relationship scared him to death.

“I can’t do this, Barrack.” This ate away Willow’s very soul. To have what he always wanted for so long dangled before him like this was torture. “I love you, Barrack. I’ve loved you for years. I won’t be able to take it when you just want to be friends again. When this experimental thing—” He waved between them frantically before returning his hands to Barrack’s hair, gripping for dear life. “—of yours is over. I’m sorry, Bear, I just can’t—” What if he was some drunken accident? His heart couldn’t take it.

* * *

Barrack didn't want to hear any more, so he did the one thing he could to shut Willow up: he kissed him, softly, slowly. “I failed chemistry, remember.” He spoke against Willow’s lips. “I don’t like experiments.” Kissing Willow again, his hands ran down the length of Willow’s body to cup Willow’s somewhat dwindled erection. Willow’s gasp opened his mouth for him, allowing Barrack entrance.

He licked Willow’s lip and continued his massage over Willow’s re-hardening shaft. “I will never leave you, Aleksandr. I haven’t left you in twenty-five years. Through everything, I have been with you. I love you. You own my soul.” Barrack kissed the corner of Willow’s mouth. “When you’re gone, I am incomplete.” Kissing Willow’s eyelids, he cupped Willow’s cheek. Willow’s legs moved against Barrack’s sides, one wrapping around to rub Barrack’s ass. “I love you, Aleksandr Willowson. Allow me to love you.” Wiping away another tear, he nibbled at Willow’s earlobe, moans spurring him on. His hips rolled against Willow of their own accord. “Please, I need you.”

* * *

This shouldn’t happen. It really shouldn’t. Everything would be different between them. Willow could not handle just being friends after this. He loved this man too much. His heart couldn't take it, and neither could his sanity. His body hummed with the things Barrack was doing to him. No one made him feel this way. Every nerve alive with the need for this man. The consequences be damned. He had wanted this for far too long. He couldn’t bring himself to stop.

“Fuck me, please.”

Willow’s words had the desired effect. Barrack snapped his hips forward, grinding their erections together. Two thick fingers forced their way between his lips. He moaned around Barrack’s intrusive fingers in his mouth. He coated them in his own saliva and used his tongue ring to tickle and tease.

Barrack unbuckled Willow's belt, then jeans. Willow’s muscles tightened in anticipation of what was about to happen. The moment Barrack’s fingers grazed over his shaft, Willow shivered in ecstasy. When Barrack took him in a firm hold, he was shaking. Willow was Barrack’s now, and he knew it.

“Never fuck, Willow. I will never fuck you.” Barrack shoved his fingers farther down Willow’s throat, slightly choking him. Willow wouldn’t admit it, but he loved the rough play. “I will make love to you. Understand?”

He nodded around Barrack’s fingers as best he could. Barrack’s exposed chest tempted him, and he petted the expanse of flesh from Barrack’s open shirt. Barrack trailed kisses along his cheek. He pumped Willow a few times, and Willow damn near lost his mind. Everything faded away, and the only thing he could feel was pleasure.

Willow moaned, arching up. His hands moved from Barrack’s chest to entangle themselves in Barrack’s hair. All coherent thought was completely gone. Completely and utterly gone, vanishing with each fluttering sensation Barrack granted him.

“Unbutton your shirt,” Barrack ordered.

He immediately obeyed with a grunt. Taking orders wasn’t something he did very well out in the real world. But here with Barrack, Willow felt submissive in a way. It wasn’t something he was used to, but he loved the sense of peace it gave him.

* * *

Each unclasped button revealed Willow’s pale, smooth skin, and Barrack couldn't help but kiss the newly exposed flesh. The last button didn't stop him; he continued and placed an open mouthed kiss on Willow’s leaking crown. His tongue played at Willow’s slit. Willow’s hands clenched in his hair. Willow’s loud moan vibrated along his fingers. The sensation traveled down his core to settle in his balls. A flavor uniquely Willow flooded his mouth, tart and tangy, but nothing too bad. A taste he was already addicted to. He’d never get enough.

He slid his fingers free of Willow’s mouth. Barrack made sure to grip Willow’s throat a moment before his hand continued down Willow’s exposed chest. Chains of varying textures, widths, and lengths created a contrast to the smooth skin beneath. He left Willow with another kiss to his cock, then tugged Willow’s jeans over his hips and continued his slow torture of Willow’s leaking head. Saliva slid from his mouth. His teeth grazed over sensitive flesh and added slight pressure. His lips contoured around Willow’s swollen flesh.

“Gawddamn, Bear. You sure this is your first time? Shit.” Willow’s grip flexed in his hair. He smiled around his prize. A sense of pride took over. It was a turn-on to know he could make Willow feel this good. He only did what he knew felt good to him.

Barrack bent Willow’s knees and carefully removed his boots, then tossed them.

Willow’s cock popped free, Barrack got to his knees to remove Willow’s pants. They too were tossed aside. He stood and noticed Willow watching his every movement. Kicking off his own boots, he released his pants and let them fall to the floor.

Barrack began to shrug off his shirt, but Willow shook his head, stopping him. “No, leave it. It’s sexy as hell.”

Looking at Willow sprawled over the bed, Barrack thought Willow was the sexy one.

Willow's hair was disheveled. His dark eye makeup added to his overall look of sex. Willow’s hard cock lay at his hip, a small trail of pre-cum dribbling from the tip. The sight of his tattooed leg and upper pelvic area sent a shiver of desire through Barrack.

The long glances Willow gave him pulled a groan from Barrack. He shrugged his shirt back on and climbed onto the bed, pushing Willow forcefully with a hand on his chest. Barrack kissed Willow’s weeping cock while he slid one hand down and up Willow’s dragon tattooed thigh and played with Willow’s nipple ring with the other.

“Oh God, Bear, please.”

Barrack rolled Willow’s hairless balls. “Oh hell, Bear, that’s the sexiest thing ever. Stroke yourself for me.” Willow’s request sent a spike of desire straight to Barrack’s dick. He did as ordered. “Oh, hot damn. Bear, please.”

Barrack licked a path up Willow’s body, peppering kisses along the way. “Where’s the lube, Bear? Please…” Willow’s hands found his hair once again. “Please, make love to me?” It was obvious Willow had no qualms about begging. It was the sexiest shit ever. Past girlfriends would beg, but none had this effect on him. Willow’s begging set off a need within him: a need to possess, dominate, and love this man. To be everything Willow needed and could ever want. To treat Willow with the respect and care he deserved.

Barrack came back to himself, to the here and now, and reached for the lube in the nightstand drawer. He popped the lid and coated his fingers. “I’ll give you everything you need.” He kissed Willow again and slid one lube-coated finger inside Willow’s tight ass.

Moaning into Barrack’s mouth, Willow wrapped his legs around Barrack’s waist and bucked up to meet Barrack’s probing finger. “More… please.”

Barrack added another finger, stretching Willow. He scissored his fingers, his cock bobbing and his muscles clenching in anticipation of what was to come.

“How do you know what to do, Bear?” Willow’s hands ran through his hair, sending little sparks of pleasure down his spine.

He kissed Willow’s neck and added another finger; Willow’s moan of approval briefly short-circuited his brain, forgetting the question.

“Well, I figured it’s no different than with a woman.” He removed his fingers.

Willow grunted in what Barrack assumed was disapproval. He sat up on his knees, uncapped the lube, and coated his aching cock. The cool gel helped him regain a little control, but then he couldn’t take it anymore.

Willow’s groan pulled his gaze over the man beneath him. Willow lay with his legs spread, his cock twitching with pleasure and a slight flush coloring his pale skin. His swollen lips stuck out in a tiny pout. His eyes framed in dark makeup conquered Barrack’s attention.

Barrack stroked himself a few times, his eyes fluttering shut, to spread the lube. This action nearly made him shoot off; he’d never felt this fucking turned on.

“You dirty little boy, Bear.” Willow exhaled when Barrack hooked one knee with his elbow, aligning his cock with Willow’s slicked hole, making Willow shiver. “So very naughty.”

Barrack pushed forward and watched his cock pass the first ring of tight muscle. Willow’s head lolled to the side with a tiny whimper. Covering Willow’s body with his, Barrack attacked Willow’s exposed throat with nips and kisses. He paused, once fully seated, before beginning a slow, tortuous pace for the both of them. His hips rolled slowly, almost caressing Willow.

* * *

Willow turned into Barrack and demanded a kiss. His hands framed Barrack's face. He needed to see Barrack's eyes. Needed to see that Barrack wasn't going to change his mind. He bit Barrack’s lip. “Fuck me harder, Bear, please.” He wanted, needed it harder. Just in case this was the only time between them, he wanted the memory.

Barrack ran a hand up Willow’s dragon-covered rib cage. It felt good until Barrack pressed too hard over the area abused by the bar. He gasped in pain. He was so distracted, he’d forgotten his collision with the bar back at Byer’s Place. The pain should’ve brought some sense back to him, but instead, it pushed him further into his sex-crazed state. Barrack’s other hand encompassed his neck.

His dick twitched.

Barrack slid his hand back over Willow’s sore ribs and continued down to grip his dick in an almost painful hold. He was so turned on, he could hardly see straight. The submissive feelings Barrack was pulling from him were foreign but welcome.

“We have to break you of this habit.” Barrack's voice was husky. "It's never fucking."

The grip on his neck tightened. He could hardly breathe. Tears pricked in his eyes then fell. The cool trail felt good, the same as the too-tight grip. He relaxed under the pressure, allowing Barrack to dominate him “Do you enjoy this? My hand wrapped around your throat, nearly choking you. It turns you on, doesn’t it?”

He nodded as best he could. Both hands gripped Barrack’s wrist, not in an attempt to make Barrack let go but to feel the controlled power in Barrack’s arm. Barrack kissed him and, finally, began thrusting harder, making undeniable love to him. Willow’s attention zeroed in on his lower half. The pleasure from Barrack fucking him and the hand pumping over his dick in sync with Barrack’s thrusting was damn near torture.

“Bear,” Willow croaked. “I’m gonna come… please… let me come… _Nnn fuck_ … please.”

Barrack sped up both his hips and his hand. “Come for me, Willow.” Barrack’s soft voice sent a shiver down his spine. “I want to feel your release running down my hand. Come on my cock.” As if Barrack had complete command over his body, an orgasm tore through him so intense that every muscle in his body twitched and contracted with it. A low, long groan ripped from Willow, filling the room.

A sharp painful bite to Willow’s neck heightened his bliss. Barrack’s rhythm faltered, and shudders rocked the man above him.

Both men lay panting for a moment.

Barrack was the first of them to move. He brought up his cum-covered hand and licked one finger clean. It was one of the sexiest things Willow had ever seen. His hole clenched around Barrack’s still hard but sensitive cock. Barrack hissed, but Willow wasn’t sorry.

“Lick,” Barrack ordered.

Obeying, Willow greedily sucked his own juice from the rest of Barrack’s fingers.

Once clean, Barrack cradled Willow’s head in his hands and smoothed back Willow’s sweat-slick hair. “I love you.” Barrack nuzzled the crook between his neck and shoulder. He heard Barrack inhale. “I’ve always loved you. I’m so sorry it’s taken this long to realize it. Can you ever forgive me?”

Silent tears ran down Willow’s face. Pain constricted his chest. The pain in his stomach flared back with a vengeance. “Please, don’t hurt me, Barrack,” Willow whispered. Barrack hugged him tightly. He returned the hug, almost clinging to Barrack. “You can destroy me, Barrack. Please.”

A kiss to his temple was almost his undoing. The tenderness and absolution of what Barrack told him racked his very sense of their relationship. “I’ll never intentionally hurt you,” Barrack told him.

He hid his face in Barrack’s hair. “Forever and always, Bear.”

The fear of losing Barrack hit him like a ton of bricks. He immediately regretted what they did. Barrack's words were the right ones, but Barrack always had a way with words. He felt like the bed beneath him had given way and he was free-falling. He didn't know what would happen or where they would end up. This was either going to make them stronger or break them apart forever. Willow didn't know what he would do without Barrack in his life.

 _What the hell did I just do_ … _?_


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barrack - like an army barrack.
> 
> sagekazankov.wordpress.com

He was being watched. He knew it. Not to mention he was a little cold. His nose twitched in irritation, and he heard a chuckle from Barrack.

“Nnnn.” He took a breath and cracked open one eye. Barrack loomed over him, looking content. “I’m cold, you jackass.” He scooted closer and snuggled down with Barrack. He tensed, wondering if Barrack had changed his mind.

Barrack pulled Willow to him and buried his nose in Willow’s hair. “I love you, Willow.”

He rested against Barrack, reveling in Barrack's declaration of love. It was something he never thought he'd hear. He wanted to hear it again. “Mmm.” Barrack's fingers tickled over his skin. “Tell me again.” He licked Barrack's nipple, pulling a hiss from Barrack.

“Aleksandr Willowson, I love you.”

Willow pushed Barrack over onto his back and crawled on top of him. He looked Barrack in the eye, still unable to come to terms with what had happened between them. Although he was calmer this morning, he definitely wasn't secure in this new aspect of their relationship.

“Tell me again, please.”

Barrack looked confused but cradled Willow's face in his hands. “I wholeheartedly love you.” Barrack tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. “What’s wrong?”

He wasn't sure if he was happy or annoyed at Barrack's ability to read him. “I’m scared, Barrack.” He moved Barrack’s hand to his mouth and kissed the back as if it were a holy relic. “I’m scared you’ll hurt me. I’m scared you’ll leave me. I'm just scared.”

Barrack's hands glided up and down Willow’s sides and back. Willow braced his weight with his arms on either side of Barrack's head. “I don’t know what I’ve done to cause such distrust in you, but I’ll do everything in my power to fix it.” There were the right words. Such pretty words but he just couldn't trust them. It made no sense since Barrack never gave him a reason not to trust.

He didn't want to process anymore. Instead, he sat up and reached behind himself while stroking his cock. Barrack held his hips as he rose, impaling himself on Barrack’s morning erection. “Willow.”

Lowering himself down over Barrack, Willow groaned as Barrack’s large hands traveled to his ass, squeezing and kneading firmly. “You’ve done nothing, Bear. It’s all me.”

Barrack planted his feet on the bed and thrust up. “Mmhmm.”

Rolling his head back, Willow rode Barrack. “Please… be patient with me.”

A kiss silenced him. His bottom lip disappeared into Barrack's greedy mouth. “For you, I will be anything.”

Willow splayed his hands over Barrack’s chest, chuckling. “Then be my bucking bronco, and I’ll be your cowboy.

“Whatever you want.” Barrack thrust up to meet Willow’s movements.

Willow exhaled with a long, low, pleasurable sigh. “Good answer.”

“It’s always the best, I’ve come to find.”

Any conversation between the two ceased when Barrack sped up his thrusts. Barrack kissed and nipped at Willow’s neck. He glided a hand over Willow's back, following his spine, and gripped Willow's hair to yank his head to the side. Barrack’s other hand moved from Willow’s ass to his dick.

“Fuck, Bear,” Willow ground out, and Barrack began to viciously pump Willow’s solid shaft. “Bear.”

Barrack swiped his thumb over Willow's head, smearing his pre-cum. Barrack roughly pulled Willow’s head back with his other hand. He pumped Willow faster. “I love you, Willow.”

“Fuck.” He came, coating Barrack's pumping hand.

It was instant. One moment, he was riding Barrack and the next, he was under Barrack. This new position gave Barrack the leverage and control. The sound of flesh slapping flesh filled the room. “Yes, Bear, give it to me.” His begging seemed to be the trigger Barrack needed; he caught Willow's mouth in a feral kiss.

Willow swallowed Barrack’s moans as his boyhood friend came deep in his ass. He needed this after the previous night. He needed to know if Barrack still felt the same.

Barrack guided their kiss to a calm, slow, passionate affair. Barrack smoothed both hands up his arms and interlaced their fingers. “The things you do to me,” Barrack mumbled against his lips. It sort of tickled.

Willow looked Barrack over. He saw nothing but happiness and lust. Was that the only thing they shared, lust? Maybe this was some kind of experimental thing for Barrack. The thought tore apart his insides. He launched up and kissed Barrack, he needed something to anchor himself. “I love you, too.” With everything he was, he loved Barrack.

Barrack smiled like an idiot and rolled off of him. The warmth disappearing caused him to shiver. Willow squeaked as arms pulled him closer to the warmth he craved.

His ass ached, as did his side, but none of it even compared to his confusion. “I’ve got something to tell you.”

“Hmmm?” Barrack settled in, petting Willow's back.

Despite Barrack's calm enough answer, he felt the muscles beneath him tense up. He tried to swallow, but he couldn't seem to make his throat work. “I’ve got to leave for two weeks later today but I'll be back.”

Barrack instantly sat up and looked at him. He didn't have the nerve to meet Barrack's stare. "When did this happen?"

"I would've told you sooner, but it only just happened before I met you at the bar last night. I'm really sorry." The lie felt like acid on his tongue. There was no last-minute trip. It was something he had made up to get away. He needed the space to get his head on straight.

What Willow really wanted was to run away from his fear. Things were moving way too quickly in such a short time. No matter what Barrack said or how much he reassured Willow, he couldn't accept it. None of it made sense.

"Just happened, did it?" Barrack swung the covers off and stormed over to the dresser. A drawer slammed, so hard it bounced back out, causing Willow to jump.

Barrack sounded like he didn't believe Willow. "Yeah… There wasn't time to tell—"

Barrack's gaze snapped to him. "Why are you lying to me?" One leg then the other disappeared into pajama bottoms.

"I'm not!" he insisted. "You can call Sig and ask." Willow's lungs hitched in his chest. He prayed Barrack didn't want to call Sig, his manager, and ask. If Barrack did, then he'd find out the whole thing really was a lie.

He didn't want to deal with any of this right then. Exhaustion was probably clouding his judgment. He might've slept a little over an hour the night before, and he was feeling a little unfocused.

"You couldn't have told me you were  _ leaving _ when we got home?" Barrack put air quotes around the word  _ leaving _ .

He pulled the blanket closer, trying to cover his nakedness. "There wasn't time…"

Barrack put on a shirt. "Because other things took precedent, right?" Willow wanted to melt into the floor. "Why are you running from me? From this? From us?" Barrack wasn't shouting, not even close, but his words resonated as if he were.

Sometimes Willow hated how close they were because that was exactly what he was doing. "I have a—"

"Business trip. I got it."

“I’m really sorry, Bear. I just—”

"Save it. Have a safe trip." Barrack walked out of the room, and he took Willow's heart with him. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Barrack, and that was exactly what he was doing.

He shouldn't run away, but he was so damn scared and confused. If he wasn't here, he wouldn't have to deal with it.

"One more thing." Willow nearly jumped out of his skin when Barrack stepped back into the room, "If you don’t text me and let me know you're okay like normal, I  _ will _ kick your ass. Got it?"

He nodded.

"Good. I may be mad at you, but I still love you." Barrack walked out again, leaving Willow even more confused.

* * *

Barrack walked into the Bureau, mug of bland coffee in hand, and plopped down at his desk. He leaned back in his chair, the thing groaning with his weight, and stared at the ceiling.

“Willow must be gone,” Calhoun observed.

Something constricted his chest. Their argument that morning had left Barrack in a bad place. He sighed and continued to stare at the ceiling. Barrack shifted his weight, and the chair groaned again. He wanted to groan himself.

“What makes you say that?” He even sounded upset. If he could hear it, then he was sure Calhoun could.

Papers shuffled and a pen tapped on a desk. “Well, you look like the calm before the storm, with ants in your pants, getting ready to jump down someone’s throat.”

Slowly lowering his head, he quirked an eyebrow at Calhoun. “That made no sense.”

Calhoun shrugged and flipped through some papers. “Maybe to you, but it don’t change the fact Willow’s gone.”

“Am I that transparent?” He took a sip of coffee and grimaced. In hindsight, Barrack knew he shouldn't have left until he and Willow had talked things out. It was rare that they fought, even rarer they didn't resolve it before Willow left again.

He almost turned around to go back home several times, but he was already late for work. By the time he made a solid decision to turn around, he was sure Willow had already left.

“Only when Willow’s involved.” Barrack sat rather uncomfortably as Calhoun looked him over. “You look different.”

He half shrugged and dived into his own mountain of paperwork, which had somehow multiplied since the last time his ass had sat there on Friday.

“When will he be back?”

“Two weeks.” Anything else Calhoun said, he ignored. If there was one thing Barrack didn’t want to talk about, it was Willow’s absence. It would only preoccupy his mind when he should be focused on his cases.

Barrack and Calhoun swam in paperwork all day, only breaking for lunch and a mandatory bureau meeting with Matterhorn before trudging home.

Barrack tossed his things on the island and looked around his empty house. He couldn’t call it home, because without Willow, it wasn't. Everything seemed so dead and lifeless without Willow around. Come to think of it, every time Willow left, Barrack hit a wall of solid depression. How the hell he’d never understood his love for Willow before now was a complete mystery.

He had once thought he loved his first real girlfriend, Colleen, but now Barrack knew what he’d felt back then was nothing to the way he felt about Willow now.

He thought about grabbing something with alcohol but decided against it. Drinking when he was upset was never a good idea. Instead, he snatched a bottle of water from the fridge. He went to the sofa, almost collapsing. He simply sat there and looked around his dark and quiet house. There was a hole in his life only Willow could fill. That was if Willow wanted to be a part of his life. From what had happened that morning, Barrack wasn't so sure.

For the first time in his life, Barrack felt like his relationship with Willow could be in jeopardy.  _ Did we make a mistake? _

* * *

Two and half weeks later, Willow was still gone, and two more murders had popped up. The papers took it upon themselves to nickname the serial murderer “The Cul-de-sac Killer.” Barrack thought it was catchy, but Matterhorn hated it when a killer became famous enough to receive a nickname. It looked very bad on Matterhorn’s numbers. And who was blamed for it? Barrack. Despite everything Barrack had accomplished in Matterhorn’s name, the motherfucker only remembered Barrack’s supposed failures and never his accomplishments.

The son of a bitch.

Something about the murders wasn't quite right. The MO, or method of operation, was fundamentally the same, but small subtle differences ate at him. The first murder had been angry, violent in the extreme, as if the murderer had known his or her victim. The second murder had been calm to the point of complete indifference. The third murder seemed religious, incorporating a crucifix from within the home. The fourth was sloppy, to the point of blatant nonchalant flippancy. Then the pattern repeated itself. Normally a serial killer stuck to one method like a checklist, but this one changed things up. Barrack started to think all these homicides weren't committed by the same person.

Barrack drove home, more frustrated than he could remember in years. He had no leads in the Cul-de-sac cases, and Willow still wasn't home. His favorite Emotio CD,  _ Culprit Hiatus,  _ blared over his truck's stereo system. This CD had a darker, sexier sound than most of their work. It fit his mood right then.

He checked his phone for the eightieth time and was more than a little peeved. He hadn't heard from Willow all day. Their correspondence had been short and to the point since Willow had left, but Willow usually let Barrack know he was alright. He sighed and pulled up to the valet service for his building, then gathered his things and headed upstairs. Alone.

The elevator dinged, granting Barrack access to his floor. He stopped in front of his door and looked down the hall. He missed Willow.

The door opened, and Barrack immediately heard soft jazz music. He drank in Willow propped up on the sofa. He had a pad of paper in his lap, pen poised to write, and his ankle propped up with a bunch of pillows. His eyes sparkled with what Barrack assumed was glitter even from across the room. His makeup seemed heavier today than usual. Barrack’s chest constricted when Willow looked at him.

Despite how they had left things, how hurtful their conversations had been, he was happy Willow was home.

He set his things on the counter, save a magazine he had bought earlier, and walked over to Willow.

Willow's jaw worked as if grinding his teeth. "I ha-have to—" He tossed the empty pad of paper and pen onto the coffee table and limped into the bedroom. The door clicked shut, and it felt like Willow was shutting him out. In a way, Barrack knew he was.

He was a little hurt Willow hadn't told him he was coming home today.

Barrack sighed. He wanted to barge in the room and find out what the hell was going on, but he knew that would do little to no good. Instead, he sat down and looked at the cover of  _ VAL _ , the top music magazine in the country. A close-up of Patryk Sama’el graced the cover. His black mask with fine gold lines accented the structure of his face, and his hair was pushed back allowing the full beauty of the mask to show. He wore diamond stud earrings and what looked like a red and white kimono. His dark blue eyes literally popped off the page. The front cover proudly displayed their status as the fifth magazine to ever land a personal interview with Patryk Sama’el. Turning to page 179, Barrack spotted a full page photo of Patryk.

He began to read the two-page article interviewed and written by Isabella Gonzalez, Barrack's ex-girlfriend.

“ _ Emotio has been a popular band for eight years now, and most of that credit goes to lead singer, Patryk Sama _ ’ _ el. From the song lyrics to light synchronizations, the tour, to the album artwork, Patryk Sama _ ’ _ el has his hands in it all. _

* * *

_ The enigma that is Patryk Sama _ ’ _ el has also played a part in the band _ ’ _ s monumental success. Just who is Patryk Sama _ ’ _ el? Where does he go when Emotio isn _ ’ _ t on tour? I sat down with Patryk to find out the answers. _

**_Just who is Patryk Sama’el?_ **

_ Patryk Sama _ ’ _ el is me, and I am him. There is no difference between Patryk Sama _ ’ _ el and the true me. We are one in the same. I see no difference between who I was born and who I _ ’ _ ve become today. Both my personal and famous personas play into who I am. _

**_Where do you go when not on tour or recording with the band?_ **

_ When doing neither, I go home just like everyone else. Though lately my downtime isn't what it used to be. _

**_Well, that unearths a whole new set of questions, now doesn’t it? Where do you call home? Who do you stay with? Your parents? No one?_ **

_ Texas is home, where I bare my heart, soul, and face to the world. And yes, when I arrive home, I do see my parents and my dog, and no, I do not live with them. _

**_How have you successfully kept your face hidden from the public eye all these years?_ **

_ That _ ’ _ s quite simple. I am very sneaky and have been accused on more than one occasion as being very resourceful. _

**_Why keep your identity from your own band members?_ **

_ In all honesty, at first it was a joke. I joined them completely unexpectedly one night during Mardi Gras, when my best friend literally pushed me on stage. From then on, it _ ’ _ s just something funny for me to do. The guys would always tease me and try to guess as to what my face looks like. The game has just stuck. As our fame has grown, so has the excitement of the game for them. Now, as always, its sole purpose is only a game between us. _

**_If the band asked you in private to take off your mask, would you, and are you still friends with the person who pushed you on stage?_ **

_ Yes and yes. _

**_Does keeping your identity a secret from your band mates put a strain on your relationship as a team?_ **

_ I don _ ’ _ t think it does. Sure, we can _ ’ _ t go out in public together as friends in downtime, but we do call, text, and email often. If time permits, we vid chat for a bit. If anything, I think all of us living in different places all over the country puts more of a strain on us than anything. _

**_What makes you say that?_ **

_ We all originally come from the same city. It _ ’ _ s how we began. Now we _ ’ _ re scattered all over. I don _ ’ _ t like it, but I respect their need to grow and have a little space. My wish is for us all to come back together one day. _

**_How do you balance your normal, secretive life with the stress of being one of the world’s biggest stars?_ **

_ It _ ’ _ s very difficult. If not for certain people, I wouldn _ ’ _ t be able to pull this off. _

**_So there are people out there who know who is behind the mask?_ **

_ Yes, and I owe them everything for helping me. _

**_Why keep your identity a secret in the first place?_ **

_ That too is really very simple. I still want to have some semblance of a normal life when I walk off that stage. I want to be able to go home and go to the store without bodyguards or mass hordes following me. I want to be able to still be me. I want privacy. _

**_And of course the biggest question of them all, do you have a boyfriend? I really should save this one for last, but my curiosity cannot be tamed._ **

_ I do. _

**_Why would you tell us now?_ **

_ Because I believe I have found the one. _

**_Marriage in the works?_ **

_ I certainly hope so. _

**_Does he know who you are?_ **

_ He knows all of me. _

Barrack tossed the magazine across the room, the rest of the article forgotten. Things with Willow were eating him. It killed him to know Willow was in the next room and wanted nothing to do with him.

Fuming, Barrack got up and stormed into the bedroom. He came up short when he found Willow in bed, fully clothed, sound asleep. Tiny snores told him Willow wasn't faking it just to avoid him. Willow must've been exhausted.

He sat on the edge of the bed and rested his elbows on his knees. The last two and half weeks were some of the hardest he’d endured. Work, on both fronts, hadn't helped matters.

The way Willow reacted when he came home brought back his original thought the evening after they’d fought. "Did we make a mistake?" he asked, not expecting an answer.

* * *

Willow groaned and curled up more under the covers. He’d been so damned tired the night before after he’d gotten home. He’d stayed up to talk, but when Barrack had walked through the door, his fear had taken hold. Panic took him away, and he’d retreated into the bedroom. It had been his intention to go back and face Barrack, but he’d made the mistake of lying down. He hadn't slept well since he’d left their fight hanging in the air.

His stomach growled. "Shut up," he told his empty stomach and buried himself farther under the covers. The smell of breakfast pulled him from bed, and he sat on the edge, still in his clothes from the day before. He debated changing into a giant T-shirt just for breakfast.

Willow ran his hands through his hair and got up, almost standing on his bad ankle. He hobbled to the dresser drawers and found a large enough T-shirt. He changed and then limped to Barrack's island bar. The darkness beyond the curtains told him it was night. He couldn't help but smile at Barrack making them breakfast for dinner. Just how long had he been asleep?

“How was your  _ business trip? _ ”

Willow froze midway into the chair. Barrack didn't even bother to turn around, instead concentrating on cooking, which told Willow how upset he really was.

"It went okay."

Barrack's movements tensed up. "When do you leave again?"

He fidgeted in his seat. The ache under his ribs burned like fire. “Less than a month." Barrack didn't say anything at all. It prompted him to continue. "You know why I have to leave,” he said. “I’m sorry.” He felt guilty for leaving the day after they’d hooked up, but he’d been scared. Hell, he still was.

Barrack flipped the pancakes and attended the eggs. “Yeah."

Willow opened his mouth but thought better of saying anything. He looked down to the placemat before him, deliberately avoiding Barrack’s face. He heard Barrack’s exhale of breath when he set the plates from the cabinet down a little too hard.

“Come with me, please?” He knew it was a long shot to ask, but he had to try.

Barrack's silence spoke volumes. He stood at the stove, a death grip on the pan and spatula. "I can't."

Willow didn't know what to say or do to make things better between them. He hadn't meant to upset Barrack, but he’d managed to anyway. Doubt swirled and took over his resolve. A deep burning ache settled itself in his gut.

_ I knew fucking was a bad idea. _

Barrack gave him a full plate. He expected Barrack to sit with him, but Barrack stormed off into the bedroom. Willow jumped.

The plate full of food mocked him. He cringed, pushed the plate away, and got up to hobble into the bedroom.

He opened the door to find Barrack fuming. He tried to be as quiet as possible.

Barrack turned and faced him, his chest heaved with a deep breath. “You lied to me. Why?”

Willow's eyes went wide. He shook his head no and his mouth worked, but nothing came out.

“Yes, you did. You told me this last trip came up unexpectedly before meeting me at the bar. You were lying. I know you. Why?” Barrack stood stock still. "Then, last night, you completely avoided me. Do you not want this? Did we make a mistake?"

The pain in Willow's gut intensified with Barrack's last two questions. They were the same ones he'd been asking himself about Barrack. “You have no idea how bad I want this. I was scared. Hell, I’m fucking terrified.”

“Why?” Barrack’s voice, so harsh only moments ago, now sounded like a balm to Willow’s soul. He needed Barrack like air and it scared him shitless.

“Doesn’t it bother you? Being with women all your life and now suddenly you're into guys? It’s not normal, Barrack. I don’t care who you are.” Sitting on the edge of the bed, Willow cradled his head in his hands and his elbows came to rest on his knees. “I need you. I need you like a flower needs the sun. Like the tides need the moon to rise and fall, and it scares me. I’m scared you’ll leave. I can’t go back to just being friends. I can’t.” Willow felt nauseous. He wanted to throw up and hide. He shouldn’t have come back home. Staying away and working sounded like the better option at this point.

* * *

Willow’s obvious pain pulled Barrack to kneel in front of him. Grabbing Willow’s forearms, his hands traveled up to hold the other man’s hands in his. Willow’s eyes held a pain so deep Barrack couldn't breathe. He scooted between Willow’s legs and kissed him, hard. Willow tried to pull away, but his grip on Willow’s throat prevented such action. Nipping Willow’s lips so hard he jumped, Barrack softly moaned.

“I’m not interested in men. I’m interested in you.” Barrack gave Willow one soft kiss. “You speak as if you’ve already decided we won’t work or I’ll leave you, and that will not do. You are my best friend. My love. My Aleksandr. Taking it to the next level feels right. Please.” He kissed Willow again and felt himself starting to break. “Please, don’t lose faith in me now. Please.” Barrack wasn’t one to beg, but for Willow, he would. “Please, Aleksandr, give me a chance, give us a chance.”

Sniffling, Willow half laughed. “When you call me Aleksandr, you sound so serious.”

He pulled away just enough to look at Willow, his heart eased up a little. “I am serious.”

Before Barrack even stopped talking, Willow was nodding. “I know.” Willow’s smile lifted Barrack’s soul, giving him slight hope. “I’m sorry. I’ve just wanted this so long it’s hard to believe it’s true.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Willow's exploring fingers tickled against his face. Then stopped to trace his lips. “I was willing to live with being your friend if it meant that I could be near you. I resigned myself to living off the affection you showed me as a friend. I couldn’t handle losing that by saying anything.” Willow’s chuckle held no amusement at all. “It’s funny. I lived off whatever physical gestures you felt comfortable with, but at the same time, it was killing me. Reminded me of what I couldn’t have.” A shiver raced throughout Willow. It was more than just his naturally cold state.

* * *

“You have me now.” Barrack looked at Willow with more care than Willow thought he deserved. He had run away, after all. The way Barrack touched him reassured Willow everything would be okay.

“I know. Can we eat, then go to bed? I’m so tired.”

Barrack agreed, and they went back to the island together. He sat at the counter, Barrack soon joined him, and they ate.

The silence was killing him. It felt awkward, like things were still off between them. Willow said the first thing that came to mind. “You know what’s weird is you’re the one who gave me the nickname Willow. Now even our parents call me that.”

"I've noticed" was all Barrack said.

He ate, defeated. The only noise, the clinking of their silverware against their plates, sounded too loud. Willow wasn't really eating. Instead he took tiny bites and pushed his food around his plate.

Barrack took a deep breath next to him. "If this is going to work, you can't run away."

"I know… I'm sorry." He gave up even pretending to eat.

The chair scratched the hardwood floor when Barrack got up. "Are we in this?"

His nausea returned, but this time he had something to vomit up. "Are you?" Answering Barrack's question with a question was a deflection.

"I wouldn't have been so mad and hurt if I wasn't." Barrack put his plate in the sink and returned to take Willow's.

He wanted to curl up and lie down. His stomach was churning so badly. "Yes."

“Then we have to tell our parents.”

He knew Barrack was right. Telling their parents somehow solidified things. Willow wasn't sure how this made him feel. What if this didn't work out?


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barrack - like an army barrack.
> 
> sagekazankov.wordpress.com

Willow heard Barrack waking up. He would've much rather felt it while curled up against the big man, but things still weren't right. He had hoped taking their relationship to the next level would’ve brought them closer, but all it had done was drive them apart.

A hand slid under his head and Barrack rolled him over. He scooted closer of his own accord. “How long have you been awake?” Barrack asked.

He shrugged. “Haven’t slept well over the last two days. Last two and half weeks, really.”

“Why?”

It was a good five minutes before Willow answered. “This just scares me. Well, it scared me." He hoped Barrack caught his tense change.

A hum vibrated Barrack's chest. “If you weren’t scared, why didn’t you sleep last night?” Barrack's gentle touch tickled his arm.

“Residual fear?” His answer came out more like a question.

Barrack lapsed into silence, leaving Willow to think. What could he say to make this better? He felt like they’d talked this to death since he came back home.

Maybe he just needed to shut up. Or he should… Willow stirred and disappeared under the covers. He found what he was looking for and opened his mouth.

“ _Shit_.” Barrack hissed as his cock slid down Willow’s throat. “Willow.”

Barrack sighing his name had him moaning around Barrack’s cock. The two of them needed this. At least he hoped Barrack needed him. He certainly needed a little reassurance after everything that had happened.

Pain prickled his scalp. His hair tightened in Barrack’s grip. The restraint made him feel controlled. It was a control Willow craved.

His cock jumped when Barrack forced him, using his hair. He teased and tormented Barrack with his tongue ring, using alternate pressure and swirling his tongue. The rounded tip of his ring played at Barrack’s slit.

“Come here.” Barrack ordered and dragged him away from his prize with a soft pop. His hiss of pain was cut off by Barrack’s kiss. “I love you.”

He moaned and fisted Barrack's cock. Easy, teasing pumps had the desired effect. Barrack grunted underneath him. Having Barrack like this clicked something into place. Guilt washed over him for running away, for treating Barrack like he’d done something wrong.

“I’m so sorry, Bear.” He nuzzled Barrack's neck in an attempt to hide. “I’m sorry.” He felt guilty for leaving. Guilty as hell. “I’m so sorry. I just—shit.” Barrack gripped both of their cocks in one hand.

“Hush.” Barrack kissed his temple. “Only feel.”

“I can do that.”

* * *

Willow’s soft little sighs sent pleasure down to his toes. Smearing his thumb over both of their weeping heads, he swallowed Willow’s moans in a kiss.

Willow pushed himself up to his hands, his head hung low, his long bangs barely tickling Barrack’s chin. He began to roll his back, thrusting into Barrack’s sure tight grip. “Fuck, Bear, this is so fucking hot.”

Barrack took in Willow as he blatantly watched their cocks rub together. “I agree.”

Willow’s blue steel eyes traveled to his. Barrack firmly took hold of Willow’s slender throat. His eye shadow smudged straight back to his temple as if Michelangelo had absently smeared a masterpiece becoming part of the art. His moist pink lips were parted. Those eyes called to Barrack, swirling with something he couldn't understand.

Speeding up his movements, Barrack took his pleasure in Willow’s climbing passion. A light sheen of sweat highlighted his pale skin. The dragon climbing its way up Willow’s right side seemed to move with a life all its own. His new dangling nipple rings swayed with his movements, searching for release. Willow’s ragged breathing caressed over Barrack’s face.

“Bear, I’m gonna… oh gawd…”

He captured Willow’s mouth and ate Willow’s rich, throaty groan. Willow's release coated Barrack’s stomach, hand, and cock. Gripping Willow’s now sensitive organ harder, Barrack ruthlessly pumped them both. “Holy shit, Bear… fuck…”

Willow’s cursing set him off. The familiar tingle gathered at the base of his spine. He threw his head back into the pillow and stifled a groan. Barrack didn't want to drown out Willow.

Willow took the opportunity to gently nip at Barrack’s throat before continuing down and attacking each of Barrack’s nipples. The little minx continued on his way, lapping and kissing at every strand of their combined cream.

“Fuck.” Barrack’s hips bucked as Willow began to methodically clean his dwindling sensitive shaft. Willow also licked Barrack's hand clean. That tongue ring did wicked things to Barrack.

Willow climbed up Barrack's body, his movements heightening Barrack's post-orgasmic high. Something clouded his eyes; it'd been there for far too long, and Barrack couldn't stand it anymore. He sat up and forced Willow to straddle his lap.

“What’s wrong?” He used his dry hand to comb through Willow’s hair, the other to chase away the goose bumps settling over Willow's skin.

“I’m so sorry, Bear.” Willow leaned his forehead against Barrack’s. “I didn’t know what else to do. I shouldn’t have run away… I’m sorry.” He sounded so lost.

“You could’ve talked to me, Aleksandr. I would’ve listened.” Uncertainty and fear hosted a morbid parade behind those seductive eyes. “Every woman I’ve ever been with, I’ve found fault in. I always caught myself comparing them to you. Willow would’ve known this. Willow could’ve helped me. Willow could’ve calmed me.”

He gripped the base of Willow’s neck, lightly massaging. “Willow would make me feel like everything’s alright. It’s always you, Aleksandr.” Barrack kissed Willow lightly and hummed when Willow ran his tongue along his bottom lip. “I know this is hard for you, but please don’t run from me again. Please.” He pulled Willow fully to him, lightly kissing the juncture between neck and shoulder. “My heart can’t take it if you run from me.”

He felt a shiver rock Willow. “You told me I could destroy you…” Grabbing the comforter, he lay down with Willow on top of him and dragged the comforter to cover them both. Willow braced his arms on either side of Barrack’s head and nodded. Running his thumb along Willow’s jaw, Barrack could barely breathe. “Well, you can destroy me too, Aleksandr.”

Barrack waited for Willow to say something. Anything. But Willow was a cruel vision of beauty. He only stared at Barrack with eyes so blue that Barrack thought it was a trick of the light. Willow’s tongue licked over his full lips, and he ever so slowly lowered into a kiss. When their lips met, Barrack exhaled deeply in satisfaction. Willow guided the kiss, a slow intimate torture he was more than willing to endure.

“I love you, Barrack,” Willow mumbled so softly that he struggled to hear.

Barrack smiled, but his plan to kiss Willow again was interrupted by his phone ringing. Without looking, he silenced the annoying thing. “Aren’t you going to see who that is?” Willow indicated the phone with a slight nod to the side.

“No.” He ran his fingertips along Willow’s cheekbone. “You are much more important.”

The small smile gracing Willow’s lips lit up his eyes. “Hmmmm, very good answer, Bear.” Willow kissed with a little more heat. "But you do have work to do, and so do I. We should probably get our lazy asses out of bed.”

Barrack's free hand drifted to Willow’s ass with a hard squeeze. “There is nothing lazy about anything involving cocks and cum shots. It’s very hard, calorie-burning work.”

Willow’s laugh covered him like honey. “It doesn’t change the fact that we have things that must be done. Now come on, calorie burner, you shower first. You’re already late as it is.”

Quirking an eyebrow at Willow, he rolled, pinning the smaller man to the bed. “Work can kiss my ass.”

“Get going, or I won't kiss yours.”

Laughing, he kissed Willow one last time before rolling out of bed. “Touché, my good friend.” He walked into the bathroom and waved a finger at Willow over his shoulder. “Be ready to leave when I get home. We’ve got dinner with our parents.”

Barrack shut the door, cutting off Willow’s groan and very distinctive "son of a bitch.”

* * *

Barrack held the door open for him, and he climbed inside Barrack's truck. "Relax." Barrack whispered.

Willow scoffed to himself as Barrack shut the door and rounded the truck to the driver's side. _Relax, my ass._ There was no way in hell he was coming anywhere near relaxed until this evening was over.

Barrack pulled out of their parking lot and turned left. He noticed out of the corner of his eye Barrack's hand on the center console, palm up. It was a silent invitation. He hesitated, still unsure of his new role as Barrack's boyfriend. The title brought Willow up short. Was he Barrack's boyfriend? He certainly wasn't opposed to the idea.

He took a deep breath, clenched his jaw, and slid his hand into Barrack's. A rush of warmth made him feel like everything would be okay when Barrack kissed the back of his hand. “I love you.”

He ran the tip of a finger across Barrack's bottom lip. Holding hands wasn't something they used to do often, but it did happen every once in a while. To him, right then felt like one of those times. As if any minute Barrack would return to his senses. He feared it would happen tonight. A small sigh escaped him; he couldn't have stopped it if he wanted to.

“I love you, too,” Barrack reassured him. He looked out the window and flinched. The city flew by in a rush, almost like his life.

“I’m worried.”

“About what?”

He uncrossed then recrossed his legs to relieve some of the pressure on his ankle. The pain in his gut returned. He tried his best to comfort the ache without Barrack noticing. “Just concerned about how they’ll react. You know about us. It’s not like they’ll see it coming or anything. I’m just worried.”

“Why? Our parents know you’re gay.”

That was true. He’d told both sets of parents after he’d told Barrack in high school. “Yeah, but they don’t know you’re gay. It’ll be a shock, is all.” The city raced by in a blur. Watching was all he could do to keep his nerves in check.

Barrack stopped at the red light and turned to Willow. “I’m not gay, Willow. I’m in love. There’s no label for how I feel other than that.” Barrack's words were the right ones. They usually were.

Willow said nothing. Instead, he looked over Barrack's profile as he drove on. Barrack seemed to understand his silence. At least he thought Barrack did. He didn't pressure Willow into saying anything.

* * *

They continued the last ten minutes or so to Barrack’s parents’ house in relative silence. The house, as always, looked welcoming. Willow’s parents’ house stood just as inviting next door. The Willowson family used to live two houses down 'til about five years ago when the house next to Barrack’s had gone up for sale. Mr. and Mrs. Willowson immediately bought it and sold their house. The dividing fence in the backyard had been torn down within a week. They’d been neighbors ever since.

Barrack pulled in the driveway and put the truck in park before turning it off.

“I’m nervous, Barrack,” Willow whispered. “What if they’re angry with us? With me? What if they think I turned you gay or someth— _Barrack_!” Willow screamed as Barrack hauled the smaller man across the center console, positioning Willow to straddle his lap. Willow’s injured ankle hung comfortably off the edge of the seat.

He scooted the seat back, then took hold of Willow's throat with one hand and used the other to slowly relieve Willow of any barriers to his cock. “Barrack, st—”

Hushing Willow with a kiss, he moaned as Willow’s hands fluttered to the collar of his dinner jacket.

He slid his hand from Willow’s neck, down his body, and back up again. He reached into Willow’s pants, gripping him firmly and swiping his thumb over Willow’s head, pumping slowly.

“Fuck, Bear.” Willow leaned against the steering wheel, and for a moment, Barrack feared the horn would go off. He was distracted by Willow and soon forgot about the horn.

Willow's eyes glowed with desire. His eyeliner and shadow intensified his naturally piercing eyes. His full pink Cupid’s bow lips parted a little in a pant. His hair fell across the left side of his face, adding to his overall sex appeal. The diamond earrings shined in the light above the garage. Barrack’s old shirt hung off of Willow’s shoulder, giving Barrack a teasing show of Willow’s throat and collarbone.

“The things you do to me.” He wanted to take Willow right there, but they didn't have time for that.

Willow’s feral smile turned into a pleasured grimace as Barrack stroked Willow a little faster. His eyes half rolled back as his eyelashes fluttered shut. His hips began to move with Barrack.

“Bear, please.” Willow’s tattooed hands moved down to Barrack’s shoulders. “Fuck, please.” Willow fucked his hand.

“God, Willow, I love it when you do this. So fucking sexy.” Barrack leaned forward, kissing Willow.

“Gonna—”

"Do it. Come on me."

The truck rocked with Willow's movements. Willow bit his own hand in an effort to keep himself quiet. It partially worked. Warm rivulets coated Barrack's hand.

Willow collapsed against him, panting heavily. He stroked Willow a few more times and a full body twitch rocked the man on his lap.

"I'm not licking that off," Willow said between pants.

Barrack stifled a laugh and dug around the center console with his clean hand. Willow moved a little and started to laugh. "Wipes? What are you, a germophobe?"

"Don't make fun of me. I use them to wipe down the inside of the truck, and sometimes my job is gross. Don't hate on the wipes."

Willow didn't say anything. He did take a wipe and cleaned himself off. The wipe flew through the air and landed on the passenger's side floor. Barrack's eye twitched. "I am not taking a cum rag into our parents’ house. Get over it," Willow said and opened the door to slide out.

He knew Willow had a point, but that wasn't the point, oddly. Barrack took two deep breaths while Willow situated himself, using the door as a shield, then tossed his own wipe onto the floor. He too got out, but Willow was already halfway up the walkway to the front door. He paused and waited for Barrack with an outstretched hand. Barrack smiled and took the offer. They made the rest of the way hand in hand.

Before Willow could ring the bell, their mothers opened the door and bombarded them with hugs and kisses. Barrack's mother, Tamara, wore her age well. Her dark hair was pulled back into a loose bun, and her green eyes held the spark of someone half her age. Willow’s mother, Amy, likewise looked young. Her black hair absently fell in her face, reminding Barrack of Willow.

Willow’s Lowchen, BonBon, came running up to them, his tail wagging furiously. “Hey, BonBon, how you doing?” Willow scooped up his beloved dog.

“Come in, boys, come in! Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Do you need any help, Momma Amy?” Barrack asked as he shut the door.

“Oh no, Barrack honey, you and Willow are guests! You need to come over more! This once in a blue moon shit just isn’t gonna cut it.” Barrack laughed as Willow’s mother headed for the kitchen.

“She’s right, Barrack,” his own mother added. “You and Willow need to come over more.”

Hugging his mom, Tamara, Barrack kissed her on the cheek. “I know, Momma.” With his arm around her waist, Barrack escorted his mom into the kitchen. “Here, let me get that.” He took the wine and bread from Willow’s mother and smiled as Willow put BonBon on the floor and grabbed the sweet potato casserole.

"Hey, you two, I said no helping!” Willow's mother scolded, but Barrack paid her no attention. He wanted to help, even if it got him in quote-unquote trouble.

“Momma Amy, hush yourself,” Barrack chided and led the way for Willow into the dining room.

“Hello, son!” Barrack’s dad, Miles, hugged Willow like a son.

“Hey, Daddy Miles.” Willow’s small kiss on Miles’s cheek confirmed in Barrack’s mind that he and Willow were meant to be.

“Barrack, you overgrown asshole, come over here and give your old man a hug.” Looking past his dad and Willow, he smiled and shook Willow’s father’s hand, pulling him into a one-armed hug.

Both fathers were blond-haired and blue-eyed men. Both were large, although Miles was slightly taller and only a tad wider than Willow’s father, Sanders. People often mistook them for brothers.

Everyone sat down rather loudly, with much settling in and seating rearrangements. BonBon sat at Willow’s feet looking every bit the cute little thing that he was with his shiny blue bow. Begging, of course. Willow always gave in. Eventually. Never failed.

Momma Amy took a sip of her wine before scooping out a spoonful of mashed potatoes. “So, Barrack, how’s work?” She absently tucked her rebellious hair behind her ear.

“Mmmmm.” Willow waved his fork in the air. “Don’t ask.”

“That bad, honey?”

“Oh my god, you have no idea.” Barrack smiled, content to let Willow answer for him.

“Barrack?”

Nodding to Momma Amy, he took a bite of his steak.

Tamara swigged her wine and targeted Willow. “And you, sweetheart?”

“He sprained his ankle again.”

Barrack chuckled as their mothers’ eyes bugged. His dad scoffed, and Daddy Sanders stabbed a piece of his steak. “ _You what!_?” Barrack couldn’t help but wince as his mom’s voice reached a pitch Patryk Sama’el would have been proud of. “You are going to have to be more careful! You’re going to need surgery again if you keep this up.” His mom’s eyes openly searched over Willow. “And you need to rest more. You look dead tired, son.”

Barrack couldn't agree more. He wanted Willow to rest more than anything on this impromptu trip home. He worked too much, in Barrack's opinion. Everything between them over the last couple of weeks didn't help anything, either.

“So,” Momma Amy began, “Willow, honey, are you seeing anyone?” It was obvious she was trying to switch the topic.

“Mmm!” Barrack's mom waved her hands in the air frantically as she fought to swallow her mouthful. “Barrack, how are you and Isabella doing?”

Barrack picked up his wine glass and gave her a cocky smile. It was a perfect distraction from his real objective: groping Willow's inner thigh. “We're not seeing each other anymore.”

“Why, honey?”

Willow cleared his throat looking uncomfortable.

“She wasn’t the one.” Barrack offered while Willow fidgeted in his seat under Barrack's touch. Barrack shook his head with a smile.

He followed Willow's line of sight to find BonBon looking at Willow with the saddest puppy dog eyes ever. One little paw waved, asking for a treat. He saw Willow sneak a piece of his steak and feed the morsel to BonBon.

If Barrack knew Willow, and he did, Willow was avoiding Momma Amy's question about a boyfriend. Although they never discussed who would be the one to tell their parents or how, he was hoping Willow would take the initiative. He thought it'd do Willow good since he was having such reservations about them.

Willow's tactic worked, and the table turned relatively silent as everyone enjoyed their food. The mommas could always hush a rowdy table with their cooking. He supposed it was where he and Willow had learned to cook.

Thirty minutes later, both moms took everyone’s plates as they prepared for dessert. Turning to Willow, he threw his arm over the back of Willow’s chair casually. “I love dessert.”

Momma Tamara served the apple pie. Barrack took the distraction and moved his arm from the back of Willow’s chair to once again run up Willow’s thigh, this time reaching higher to rub Willow’s bulge. Willow, not expecting it, nearly jumped out his chair.

“Willow, honey, are you all right?”

Nodding to his mom, Willow’s lips curled in over his teeth. His eyes rolled shut as Barrack absently ran his knuckles over Willow’s bulge. Willow, for his part, pulled himself together and ate his pie as if everything was alright. This certainly wouldn’t do. Leaning back in his chair, Barrack gripped Willow a little harder, massaging him ruthlessly.

“Fuck.” Willow’s soft whisper quirked his eyebrow. “Fucking asshole.”

Barrack grinned. “Should we both excuse ourselves?”

Willow swallowed hard and tried to concentrate on his pie. Barrack caught Momma Amy's raised brow.

Barrack stood and grabbed Willow’s upper arm. “We’ll be right back. I’ve got something I wanna show him.”

Willow glanced at Barrack in confusion, but he gave a startled yelp when Barrack hauled him off.

Dragging a half hopping Willow behind him, Barrack opened the guest bathroom around the corner from the dinner table. He slammed the door and captured Willow’s lips in a hungry kiss.

“You're driving me nuts,” Willow told him.

He smiled. "No, you drive me nuts."

Willow heaved a sigh and crossed his arms. "If you keep that shit up, they'll find out about us."

He took a step back, confused. "Isn't that why we’re here?" Had he missed something?

It took a minute for Willow to answer him. "Well, yeah, I guess, but I don't want them to find out from us fooling around under the table like some teenagers or something." Willow refused to look at him.

Barrack backed up emotionally. Willow _guessed_ they were here to tell their parents? "You guess?"

"Well, if the opportunity doesn't come up…"

He reached for the door handle. "I see." The door opening pushed Willow out of the way. He made sure not to hurt Willow's ankle by doing so, but dammit, he wanted out of there.

His footsteps sounded all too loud, despite the carpet. He sat at the table, fuming and eating his pie in silence.

"Barrack, is everything alright?" his mom asked.

"Fine." His curt answer was rude, and his mom backed off.

Willow's shuffle as he approached grated on Barrack's nerves. He knew it was because he was upset about their conversation, but it didn't change the fact that Barrack wanted to tell Willow to walk normally. He couldn't, of course, because Willow was healing.

Once seated, Willow's hand rested on his knee. "Barrack, I didn't—"

"It's okay. I get it." He was lying. It wasn't okay, and he sure as hell didn't get it. Whatever _it_ was.

Both sets of parents looked completely perplexed as to what was going on.

“Things don't seem fine to me.” Daddy Sanders stabbed his pie.

Willow took his hand away. "Things are fine," he told them and began to push his pie around his plate.

Their parents exchanged several glances but kept quiet. Everyone ate their pie, save Willow, in silence.

Barrack finished his first and stood to take the plate into the kitchen. Willow came in limping immediately after him. "Barr—"

"Now you boys know to leave the dishes be," Momma Amy scolded as she walked in, carrying the leftover pie. She seemed completely unaware she’d interrupted something.

“We’re just trying to help, you know.” Willow told her.

Momma Amy scoffed and snatched their plates away. Barrack was convinced Willow learned his ‘don’t fuck with my kitchen’ attitude from his mother. She was exactly the same way. No one was allowed to touch her kitchen except for Momma Tamara, and even that was pushing it most days, even if the kitchen wasn't technically Momma Amy's, like this one.

His Momma walked in, asking Willow a question. He seized the moment and left to fetch his and Willow's wine glasses. It was out of habit more than anything else that he grabbed Willow's. He set them on the far kitchen counter, uncorked the wine, and poured himself a very generous amount.

"Want some?" he asked, but he poured Willow some anyway.

Momma Amy was at the sink, washing dishes while his Momma dried. Why they didn't use the dishwasher was beyond him.

"So, Willow?" Momma Tamara prodded.

Willow grabbed his glass and took a long swig. He looked damn near horrified. Barrack's attention was drawn to Willow pressing his palm just under his rib cage again. Even though he was irked at Willow, he wanted to ask if Willow was okay. He'd been pressing his hand on that spot more and more.

“Yes, dear!” Momma Amy spun around so quickly a little trail of water flung from her sponge. “Who are you dating? Now don’t tell me you’re not. A mother can tell these things!”

Turning back around, Momma Amy started on her dishes while Momma Tamara continued, “That’s right. No use in lying to us.”

Both fathers were smart. They leaned against the cabinets off to the side, sipping their beers. They’d learned over the years that when the wives were in unison to just stay the fuck away. It was easier this way with a lot less casualties. Namely the dishes.

Willow looked like a terrified kindergartener who’d just found out he was about to be sent to the principal's office for the first time. “Uhhh… No one?” He moved to the counter and leaned against it to rest his ankle. His hand idly pressed on that spot every so often.

Barrack's heart constricted. Willow had denied him.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Tamara, Willow isn’t going to tell us. Barrack, honey? I know you know, so is it someone we know?” Momma Amy didn't pause as she washed the dishes and handed them off to Momma Tamara.

Barrack's jaw worked back and forth. "I don't know. Is it someone they know?"

Willow's gaze snapped to him, but he didn't say anything. The hand over that spot clenched into a fist and a grimace of pain caused Barrack concern.

Now the dads couldn’t hold back their curiosity any longer. “Who is it, son?” Barrack wasn't sure who’d spoke he was so concentrated on Willow. Too hurt from Willow's rejection.

“Now, this guy better be better than the other one, ‘cause I damn near went to prison the last time. Treating my boy like that. I’ll rip anyone's balls off who treats either of my boys like that.” Sanders’s distinctive loud voice drowned out the running water.

“I’ll back you up on that one. That there last one twisted my nerves. Anyone like that ain’t welcome here, you hear me? Sanders and I don’t need to be going to prison for castrating some guy, then needing our boys to come bail us out.” Normally, Barrack found their fathers' enthusiasm funny, but not tonight.

Willow's gaze found his. He was locked in place for what felt like an eternity. Now it was his turn, again, to be shaken and completely unsure about them.

“I’d like to keep Barrack's balls where they’re at, if you two don’t mind.” Willow took a step toward Barrack. "I'm sorry."

Barrack heard a dish clatter in the sink and another bang on the counter. A very clear ‘what the hell?’ and an even more distinct silence came from their dads. But Barrack paid no attention to any of it. His only focus was Willow. He didn't say anything. He couldn't. His anger, pain, and unease were shaken but still there. Was Willow saying what he thought Willow was saying?

His very soul hurt as Willow’s eyes began to brim with tears. He tugged Willow's sleeve. “Come here.”

Willow didn't fight him. He breathed a sigh of relief and hugged Willow close. "I'm so sorry…" Willow said. "I didn't mean to hurt you." Willow's face buried in the fabric of his shirt muffled things.

He ran his hands up and down Willow's back in a calming gesture, more for himself than Willow, and kissed the top of his head. "It's okay."

“Honey?” Momma Amy's voice startled him. “Are you saying what we all think you’re saying?”

Willow pulled away a little to face his mother. “Yes. We've officially been together almost three weeks.” Willow was shaking in his arms. Barrack wasn't sure if it was because Willow was cold or from the fear of telling their parents. Either way, Barrack shrugged out of his dinner jacket and swung it over Willow's shoulders.

"Together as in…?" This time it was Daddy Miles who questioned them.

Without thinking, Barrack framed Willow's face in his hands and kissed him. Willow timidly kissed him back, and in that moment, Barrack felt relief.

They parted despite Barrack wanting to continue.

“Barrack honey,” Momma Amy began, “you’re not gay.”

Willow stiffened in his grasp, and not in a good way. Pulling Willow to him in a comforting hug, Barrack ran one hand through Willow’s hair, the other down his back. Willow wound his arms around Barrack’s waist.

“Willow said the same thing, and I’m going to tell you what I told him. I’m not gay, Momma Amy, I’m in love. There is no label for love except for love.”

“That’s not exactly what you said.” Willow’s soft voice warmed him.

“Are you sure, dear?”

“Yeah, Mom.”

Even big, tough Detective Barrack Invar jumped when both mothers squealed in delight. He could only blink as they both jumped around like little girls, hugging and dancing.

A hard clap on his shoulder jostled him into looking at his dad. “‘Bout time, you Neanderthal. Don’t make me have to castrate my own son for treating my other boy like shit, you got that?” Barrack blinked at his dad’s finger shoved in his face. Daddy Sanders stood just behind, shaking his head in agreement, a big goofy grin on his face.

“Uhh, yeah, okay.”

The air from Barrack’s lungs whooshed out of him as his dad pulled him into a big bear hug, and then Miles practically shoved him away to pull Willow into a much gentler embrace.

Barrack’s attention swiveled to their moms as both began to sing, “Now, we are family.” Over and over again. He was expecting them to be okay with him and Willow, but celebratory? This was just too damn fucking weird. Even BonBon stood on his hind legs and began to twirl while waving his front paws. Barrack knew BonBon was only after a treat, but it was still weird.

He caught Willow's eyes, and he knew without asking that they were thinking the same thing. Willow grabbed his wine glass and downed the whole thing.

He thought this an excellent idea.

What was the saying? Monkey see, monkey do?


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barrack - like an army barrack.
> 
> sagekazankov.wordpress.com

By the time Barrack and Willow were leaving their parents house it was well after midnight. Barrack sat in the driver's seat, not offering his hand to Willow as he had done on the way over. After Willow finally announced their relationship to their parents neither had a moment to themselves. Their parents' excitement was a little overboard to say the least.

He had never seen them so happy. On one hand he was relieved everything went smoothly but on the other it was a little overwhelming as well.

Now that he had a moment to breathe, to think, Barrack’s hurt from the dinner, Willow’s denial of him hit him like a battering ram. His chest tightened. Why did Willow constantly question them? Hell, why did Willow doubt him? Had he done something to cause the other’s mistrust?

The man dominating his thoughts sat curled in the passenger seat, his opposite hand pressed into that spot. He was tucked into himself, feet up in the seat, curled towards Barrack, his shoes lay forgotten on the floor. One word came to Barrack's to describe his best friend: exhausted.

Maybe confronting Willow tonight wasn’t the best idea? Another glance at Willow solidified his decision. He’d get them home and Willow into bed. In the morning he’d get to the bottom of his boyfriend’s fears.

Another ten minutes went by before Barrack pulled into their building. Willow was sound asleep. He gestured to the valet staff to back off.

He got out and came around the front to the passenger door. “I got him, thanks.” Barrack acknowledged the valet before grasping the truck handle. He reached inside, unbuckled Willow’s seat belt then carefully lifted Willow into his arms.

“Can you grab his shoes?” Barrack whispered to one of the valets.

The woman nodded.

Barrack turned away to stride into the building, the door held by another valet, towards the elevators. The woman valet caught up and punched the button. The elevator dinged prompting him to step inside. Willow curled into him with a sigh. Closing his eyes, Barrack bowed his head, his nose burying in Willow’s hair.

He moved on autopilot towards his home, the woman valet just ahead. Barrack whispered the guest code to unlock his door then she let them inside. Heading straight for their bedroom, he gave no further thought to the valet.

His focus was getting Willow in bed.

Barrack laid the other down then began the task of removing as much clothing as he could without waking the smaller man. It said a lot when Willow barely did more than groan and roll away throughout the whole ordeal.

Maybe Willow was overreacting because he was so drained?

It wouldn’t be the first time but to him this seemed to go deeper than that.

“Fuck it.” Barrack growled into the room before going to take care of himself before bed.

The sheets felt cool and comforting against his skin. Willow, without waking, curled into him.

* * *

It was the next morning and Barrack found himself in the kitchen making some of Willow’s favorites, eggs, bacon and hashbrowns for breakfast. He was almost done with the hashbrowns when he heard Willow shuffling into the room, an island chair skid over the flooring.

“Sleep okay?” He asked while turning down the heat on the hashbrowns.

Willow grunted. “Best since I left.”

He took a deep breath. “Good.” With everything cooked he plated two. “You needed it.”

“Yeah,” as he turned with both plates Willow stretched, “I could go back to bed.” He placed their plates on the island.

Barrack sighed, “Maybe you should.”

“Maybe.” Willow agreed.

They fell into silence, he sat, neither really eating their breakfast with much enthusiasm. He chewed without really tasting the meal he prepared. “You told them you were dating no one.” Fuck. Did he really say that? He hadn’t meant to. Goddamn it, he had wanted to wait until Willow had a chance to get some more rest.

Willow stiffened beside him.

Silence hung in the air like a heavy chain.

The seconds ticked by feeling like hours.

“I’m so sorry…”

“Why the hell do you think we won’t work?” Barrack turned to face Willow. “Why do you doubt us?” He needed to shut the hell up. “What are you so damned afraid of?” He watched as Willow deflated. “Have you already decided we won’t work?” Blue-steel eyes found his. “Do you regret us?” Willow flinched as if slapped. “Do you want this to work at all?”

“I-” Willow bolted for the bedroom.

 _That fucker._ Barrack barreled after him. Why was Willow running from him again?

Barrack came into the room expecting to find Willow in the bedroom, probably pacing, but it was empty. The door to the bathroom stood open. A cough drew him closer. “Willow, what the hell are you-” Barrack came up short.

Willow knelt on the floor, one hand held the rim of the toilet while the other kept his bangs back. His chest heaved as a coughing fit took over that quickly turned into vomiting. “Hey.” His own insides twisted. Striding forward, he knelt next to his best friend. One hand ran up Willow’s shuttering back while the other went into his hair. “I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have come at you like that.” He kissed the back of Willow’s neck.

“I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry.” Willow wiped his mouth with his shirt. “I just- I can’t-” More vomit slid from Willow’s mouth into the toilet. “I fell hopelessly in love with you at fourteen. I’ve watched you give up on every relationship you’ve ever been in. I’ve wanted this so long, craved this but I accepted it’d never happen. I can’t-”

Barrack pulled Willow into a hug. “I’ve never given up on you.” He nuzzled into soft locks. “None of them could compare to you.” He held on tighter. “Why can’t you accept that I’m hopelessly in love with you?” He hoped Willow would hear his own words echoed back. “I want everything with you.”

“You don’t understand. My world is inside out.” Willow relaxed a fraction against him. “I’ve spent more than a decade keeping how I felt a secret. Telling myself you’d never love me like this. I just- I need a minute to get used to this.”

A deep breath helped center him. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? You could’ve talked to me about this.”

“I didn’t know how to say it.”

Well, fuck.

They sat together, simply holding one another. Neither spoke.

If Willow needed a minute to process them then time he could give. He’d do anything for this man. All of his hurt and pain from last night melted away. For him this was a natural transition in their relationship but for Willow it was something he told himself would never be.

His hurt over the time lost. But was it really gone? The only thing missing was the sex between them. If he really thought about, they’d been in a relationship the entire time. Willow was always his priority.

“I love you.” He spoke into Willow’s hair.

“I love you, too. So damn much.”

Barrack sighed. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up and back in bed.”

Willow didn’t protest or say anything as Barrack got them to their feet. Once cleaned up both stripped and settled into bed. Willow curled in his side. “Just promise me something?” The tips of his fingers ghosted over Willow’s arm.

“Anything.” Willow’s breath tickled his skin.

“Don’t keep me in the dark. Talk to me.”

“I promise.” There was no hesitation from the other man giving him hope.

He snuggled down bringing his boyfriend closer, if possible. “Lets get some more sleep.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barrack - like an army barrack.
> 
> sagekazankov.wordpress.com

Three weeks later Barrack found himself sitting on his sofa, drinking a tumbler of Scotch, and staring at the stack of files containing the eighteen Cul-de-sac murders. Calhoun was absolutely no help whatsoever. He just sat at his desk doing “paperwork” all damn day. Snorting, Barrack took a sip of his drink. Damn Calhoun was only buying time ‘til his retirement next year. Barrack wanted to hit him most days.

He sat glaring at his work for God knows how long until he’d had enough. His tumbler smacked the coffee table a little too hard. Barrack got up, heading for the kitchen, in search of tape.

Two drawers and a small cut later, he found the damn tape. Once back at the coffee table, he began to sort key photos from the last to the first. He then took his stack behind the sofa and began taping the photos up, using the sofa back as a makeshift table for the files.

Once he could see everything laid out, Barrack was in need of more alcohol. He refilled his glass and took out his phone as he returned to the wall, calling Willow.

“You’re calling me because?”

Barrack smiled at his boyfriend even though he couldn't be seen. “Come over here. I’m tired of you being over there.”

Willow’s soft chuckle over the phone calmed and soothed Barrack more than his Scotch. “Bear, I’ve been here a few hours, four at most.”

Scanning his new board of evidence, he grunted. “That’s too long. Way too long.” Barrack’s eyebrows lowered in confusion. “What are you doing?”

Willow’s reply was long in coming. “Gathering a few last minute things. I’ll be over in a few minutes.”

“Hurry your fine ass up.” He hung up and took another sip, scanning his makeshift board as he waited for Willow. His wall of crime scene photos mocked him. They held their secrets in a firm silent grasp. He stared at them longer, hoping one of them would finally speak to him.

* * *

Willow opened the door and his gaze immediately landed on Barrack, leaning against the back of his sofa, shirtless, while staring at the wall. His tumbler sat on the dark hardwood flooring next to the back of the sofa.

“You have to leave tomorrow,” Barrack offered to the room.

He shut the door and dropped a bag by the stairs that led to the upper terrace. Barrack never turned to him, but from the gruesome photos on the wall, Willow guessed he was working.

He walked over, hands in his back pockets. "I know.” What bothered him the most was that Barrack wouldn't look at him.

As if Barrack could read his mind, copper-bronze eyes fixated on him. He could feel the heat from those eyes caress him. Standing near Barrack, he too looked at the wall. Reaching out, his fingertips lightly floated over the latest murder victim, an eighteen year old male.

“You’ll find what you’re looking for, Bear.” It was almost impossible to imagine that every person pictured was dead. It was a waste, something that should've never happened. He knew Barrack would find whoever was doing this; he just hoped it was sooner rather than later.

Cases like this, ones that involved children, always took their toll on Barrack. Barrack had called him more than once, upset over the death of a child. He couldn't blame Barrack at all. Any life taken is upsetting, but a child's was just a waste.

He studied Barrack, still amazed that this man was his. It was a shock at first. The next morning stood stark for him. Denying Barrack was one of the stupidest things he’d ever done. It was a shitty thing for him to do, but he was scared.

Once they were past it, things were just easy between them. Their relationship was the same as before but with the added bonus of amazing sex. That's not true. Everything was better now. He felt happier than he could ever remember.

There was one thing that ate his gut. He was leaving the next day. How would things be once he left? It wasn't something he wanted to find out, but he had no choice. The pain in his gut flared, but he ignored it. He wanted to preserve this moment to memory for when he was gone.

* * *

When Barrack didn’t say anything, Willow’s gaze bored into him. He felt it. Openly undressing Willow one more time, Barrack smiled to himself when Willow shuddered. He took the two steps between them and cupped Willow's jaw. Willow's face, half hidden behind his hair, looked almost sad.

Barrack made sure to stare Willow in the eye. “I already have.”

Willow’s cheeks reddened. “Come with me, Bear.”

“I can’t. I have to close this, but after, I promise I will come to you.”

He could see Willow crumpling in on himself. Pulling Willow to his chest, he sighed in relief as Willow’s hands slid around his body to hug his waist. “Will you wait for me?” Willow’s soft whisper was barely heard.

“You’ve waited on me for years, the least I can do is wait for you. Of course, if Patryk Sama’el showed up at my door…”

Willow play-punched his side. “Jerk.”

“Now, now, can you blame me? He is undoubtedly a handsome man. Very sexy.”

Willow rubbed his cheek against Barrack’s chest, and his breath fanned over Barrack’s nipple as he spoke. “Not many get into Patryk’s pants, you know.”

“Mmm, next concert I go to, I’ll use my white VIP Badge to get in early and fuck him in the dressing room.”

Barrack sucked in a sharp breath as Willow’s tongue flicked over his nipple. “I can’t fault you. He is rather hot.”

Barrack moaned softly as Willow lightly sucked on his nipple. Willow’s tongue flicked out again, making him hard as a rock. “On your knees,” Barrack ordered.

Willow complied, leaving a trail of kisses down Barrack’s chest and stomach. He mouthed Barrack’s erection through his cotton workout pants and hooked his fingers in the waist. Pulling them down to reveal Barrack, he ran his tongue up Barrack’s shaft.

Barrack grabbed Willow’s hair in one hand and the base of his cock in the other and guided his leaking cock to Willow’s mouth, smearing his pre-release over Willow’s lips. Pushing slightly forward, Barrack hissed as Willow’s sucked the head.

“Open for me.”

He sighed as Willow opened wide. Pushing his cock in deep, his grip on Willow’s hair tightened as Willow began to gag, trying to pull away. “Open for me. Relax your throat. I want my balls resting against your chin.” Willow’s moan vibrated around his cock. Slowly pushing forward, he sighed as Willow’s soft, warm mouth held his entire length, and his balls rubbed against Willow’s chin.

Barrack slowly pulled out and just as slowly slid all the way back in, not stopping, he was again balls deep, his head resting against the back of Willow’s throat. After several, slow tortuous thrusts, he finally pulled out. Using his grip on Willow’s hair, he dragged Willow to standing and kissed him hard; he could taste himself on Willow’s tongue.

He bent Willow over the sofa, ripped his T-shirt off, and attacked his neck with butterfly kisses, licks, and nips. Reaching around, he released Willow’s pants, shoving them down over Willow’s hips. His cock rested in the crevice of Willow’s ass.

“Bear.” Willow sighed, and the sound sent a shiver down Barrack’s back.

His fingers danced between Willow’s cheeks to find his slick, stretched hole. “Why are you already prepared?” Shoving Willow forward, he leaned over his tattooed lover. “Why?”

Willow began to move his whole body against Barrack, his ass cradling Barrack’s cock perfectly.

Barrack gripped Willow’s hair, forcing his head back and his spine to bow. He nipped Willow’s earlobe hard. “Tell me.”

From the little movement Willow could manage with Barrack’s grip in his hair, he shook his head no.

Using his other hand, Barrack grabbed one of Willow’s ass cheeks, spearing Willow with his hard rod in one rough thrust. “Ahh, fuck,” Willow hissed.

“Why?” Willow’s soft little moans thrilled him. Catching one of Willow’s wrists, he pulled Willow’s arm up behind his back. “No touching yourself until you answer me,” he growled. Barrack pulled Willow’s head back more, forcing Willow’s back into a sharp curved C.

Looking down, he groaned at Willow’s ass sticking out, with his own cock buried to the hilt. Willow’s back arched, his arm restrained behind him, his slim throat exposed. “When you called,” Willow mumbled and gasped at almost the same time. “I might’ve been fucking myself with my fake man penis.”

“Aw, fuck, Willow.” He couldn’t help pulling almost all the way out before shoving back home. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

Willow pushed back, trying to get him to move. “Oh, I did. Right before you called.”

Barrack used his grip on Willow’s hair and arm as leverage to fuck him against the sofa. Willow’s dragon tattoo heightened Barrack's passion.

“Bear, yes, please, please… Fuck.” Willow’s cry, as Barrack pulled the smaller man’s arm up a little higher, heightened his primal need. “Bear, I’m gonna… please. Fuck.”

“Come.” It was an order. Willow’s body spasmed around his cock, and Willow's essence shot from his cock to stain the couch.

Thrusting only a few more times, Barrack shuddered as he too finally came. “Damn.”

Barrack felt Willow nod as best he could with Barrack’s grasp in his hair. “You know people are really onto something when they say sex with the person you love is better than any other sex. Ever. Totally right.” Willow panted.

Barrack smoothed his hand over Willow’s hair. “Should I take that as a compliment?”

Willow clenched his teeth when Barrack pulled him up by the arm and turned him around. Willow briefly closed his eyes. “Totally. Never came without touching my dick before.”

He bent down to pull up Willow’s pants. “Then consider me complimented. Now get your fine ass in bed. I’m tired.” Swatting Willow’s ass, he enjoyed Willow's small yelp as he hurried to the bedroom.

Barrack reached for his tumbler of Scotch, which somehow magically stayed sort of in the same spot. Bending down and snatching his own pants, Barrack tossed back the rest of his drink. “Hot damn.”

* * *

Barrack trudged out of the bedroom and headed for the kitchen, then he started making hot mint tea. Glancing at the clock on the stove, Barrack groaned: 0400 hours. The teapot wailed, indicating it was time to pour the water into his favorite mug, a green hand-painted thing with ‘Willow and Bear’ written in sloppy children’s handwriting. Willow had made it for him when they were six. Each letter was a different color. It was the ugliest mug ever, but he loved it.

Barrack sighed and walked over to the wall covered with the Cul-de-sac cases. He dipped and moved his tea bag in thought, staring at the pictures one last time before settling down on the sofa to sift through the case notes and reports.

There had to be something he was missing. There had to be something else all these cases had in common other than the fact that each robbery and subsequent murder had taken place in a wealthy neighborhood. Other than that the murders seemed random. They had nothing else in common.

“Bear, what are you doing?” Barrack took a sip of tea and smiled as Willow took the cup from him and leaned in for a kiss.

"Do I get my cup back?"

Willow giggled, shook his head no, and took a sip.

Barrack rolled his eyes but didn't make a fuss. If Willow wanted his tea, that was fine.

He skimmed his notes. "Can you hand me that highlighter?" Barrack asked without looking up. A highlighter appeared in his palm. “Thanks.”

The highlighter was poised when he noticed Willow picking up a picture. “She’s creepy, Bear. I wouldn’t want her watching my dog, let alone a kid.” Willow patted his knee, then got up to put the mug in the sink, “I’ve got to go get ready. My flight’s at eight, and it’s already five thirty. The bellhop should be here in an hour or so.”

“Okay, babe, I’ll let him in.”

Barrack's head snapped up as he felt Willow’s hands on his shoulders. “I like it when you call me that.” Guiding him to lean back, Willow bent over and kissed him soundly. “Don’t scare off my bellhop. I need him. Got it?”

Barrack certainly wasn’t prepared for Willow to lightly smack him upside the head as he walked off. “Little shit.”

Barrack chuckled to himself when he heard the shower. Willow was probably one of the most shower-addicted people he knew. Even though Barrack was miserable when Willow was gone, he did enjoy his decreased water bill. However, if a high water bill was what he had to pay for Willow to be there, then he was certainly willing to pay.

A knock at the door drew his attention. It couldn't possibly be six thirty already. Frowning, he looked at his phone. Apparently, it was.

Barrack sighed and got up to answer the door. The bellhop twisted his hands together. “Um, Mr. Invar?”

Barrack watched the kid’s eyes travel down his body to his boxers. “Yeah, that’s me. Are you here for Mr. Willowson?”

The bell hop nodded and pulled at his collar. “I tried his door, but no one answered. My instructions were to come here instead.”

Barrack waved the kid in along with his suitcase trolley. “Willow!” he shouted. “The boy you told me not to scare away is here!”

He nodded to the suitcase and bags near the spiral stairs. “Those are his.”

The kid wasn't paying attention to him. Instead the wall of homicide photos kept the kid's attention. The kid gulped. "Huh?"

Barrack pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He repeated what he said and headed for the kitchen. He needed coffee. Now.

Barrack was just putting away the coffee grounds when Willow walked out of the bedroom, his hair and makeup perfect as usual. His oversized black and white rock and roll T-shirt hung on him just right. Tight black leather pants tucked into thigh high black boots were his undoing, and Barrack could feel himself getting hard at just the sight of them.

“Do you want me to walk down with you?”

Willow looked him over once before walking straight into Barrack’s arms. Willow hugged him close. “For one, you are so not walking downstairs with me almost naked, and two, you need to stay here and save the world.”

Barrack swatted Willow’s ass hard and pulled him into a kiss. Barrack ran his tongue along Willow’s bottom lip. Willow sucked on his tongue, making him moan. Pulling away, Willow sidestepped Barrack to get himself a cup of coffee to go.

“You are such a teasing minx.”

Willow spanked his own ass before adding his cream and sugar. “So not true. I put out, and you know it.”

Willow walked over with a cup of coffee for Barrack. He smiled at the bellboy. “His cock is delicious, isn’t it?”

The poor bellboy turned ten shades of pink, then red at being caught staring at Barrack’s hard cock in his boxers.

Barrack shook his head in amusement, then took an experimental sip of coffee. “Now, Willow, you shouldn’t tease him like that.”

He walked Willow to the door and kissed him one last time. “I’m so serious about those nannies, Bear. They’re creepy as hell.”

Barrack quirked a brow. “That came out of nowhere.”

Willow shifted his weight to his other hip. “But it’s true.” He shrugged.

They embraced, and Barrack tucked Willow’s head under his chin. “Want to know something even more true?”

“Hmmm?”

“I love you, Willow.”

“Love you too, Bear. Solve this and come to me.” Barrack heard unresolved pain in Willow's voice, and he knew it was because of him.

Hugging Willow closer, he fought the urge to cry. “I will.” Rubbing his hand up Willow’s back, Barrack reluctantly let him go. “Call me, okay?”

“I will, Bear.” As Willow started down the hall, the bellboy pushed his cart after him.

Barrack couldn’t bring himself to look down the hallway as Willow disappeared into the elevator. He just couldn’t watch his heart leave. The door closed with a hollow sound of finality.

He pushed Willow out of his mind. If he dwelled on it, he would never solve this case. Barrack headed back over to the table and sat down. He picked up a picture of one of the nannies. Barrack had to agree—they were kind of creepy.

Half a cup of coffee later, he sat up straighter. Looking at several reports and photos inside the files, he damn near jumped off the couch, trying to get to his phone. He called Calhoun and Matterhorn on a conference call, then walked into the bedroom and tried to find a clean pair of pants.

“Matterhorn.”

“Hang on, lieutenant. I’m calling Calhoun too.”

Two rings later, Calhoun answered with a gruff, “’Ello?” Thank God. If he hadn’t answered, Barrack would’ve lost his ever loving mind.

“I need both of you to meet me at the station. I think I just cracked the Cul-de-sac murders.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barrack - like an army barrack.
> 
> sagekazankov.wordpress.com

Barrack arrived at the top floor of the station and practically ripped the double glass doors off their hinges, storming into his department. Opening the drawers at the relic he called a desk, Barrack almost heaved them off their tracks looking for the case files he kept at work.

“Damnit all.”

He only found six of the eighteen case files before he scowled and stomped over to Calhoun’s desk in search of his files. Riffling through the clusterfuck Calhoun called organization, he somehow managed to fish out his missing case files. Why the fuck Calhoun had them he would never know. Hopefully, after that day, he wouldn't have to deal with Calhoun’s messy, lazy-ass ways anymore.

Jeffers walked in and stared at the head detective. The last time they had been within reaching distance of one another, Jeffers had gotten yelled at.

“Can I help you with anything, Invar?” His voice almost squeaked. Poor Jeffers was probably terrified Barrack would yell at him. He looked around the station uneasily.

“Tape. Lots of tape.” Barrack began to sort all the murders chronologically.

“Okay, sorry, Invar, I’ll just go… Did you say tape?” Jeffers sounded confused and surprised.

Glancing up, Barrack quirked an eyebrow and paused in his sorting. “Yeah. Tape. Lots of it.”

”Umm, okay.” Jeffers scurried off to find tape. Lots of tape, hopefully.

Barrack gathered his mountain of case files and headed to the large conference room with the giant long whiteboard and obnoxious conference table. He banged the door open and threw down each file, one by one, side by side along the length of the table.

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he tossed the last file down; Jeffers came hurtling into the room, announcing he had indeed found tape, lots of tape, and he proudly held out two spools. “Anything else I can help you with?”

He sounded a little too eager to Barrack. “Yeah, help me tape these up. First, crime scene photos up top. Autopsy report. List of suspects.”

With a hearty salute, Jeffers started at one end and he on the other.

Fifteen minutes later, Calhoun and Matterhorn arrived. “Sit and look at the board here.”

Matterhorn looked pissed at being told what to do, and Calhoun seemed indifferent, but they sat obediently anyway. They both knew it unwise to cross Invar when he was on a roll. “Jeffers, finish this up for me.” Nodding, Jeffers seemed to quicken his already frantic movements to finish up the last three cases.

Barrack began to pace in front of the board as he talked. “What do these cases have in common, other than taking place in a rich neighborhood?” He continued without giving either of them a chance to answer. “Think about it.”

Jeffers finished hanging the last case and stood near the end of the board, looking lost. Barrack took pity on him and gestured for him to take a seat next to Calhoun. His smile at Barrack’s acceptance brightened the young man's face.

Calhoun and Matterhorn looked to each other, confused. “Other than everyone's rich?” Matterhorn questioned. "Nothing too much in common. A few have nannies, but not all. All the nannies were questioned along with anyone else associated with the victims. You know that. A few used the same car repair, others the same lawn service, dog walker, lawn care provider. But all have been vetted."

Barrack sat across from the other three. “What if I told you not all the murders were committed by the same person, but four different individuals?”

Matterhorn sat back, arms crossed and waited on Barrack to continue.

He gestured over his shoulder. "The first, fifth, ninth, thirteenth, and seventeenth are angry, if you will. The blood spatter reports indicate excessive bludgeoning, but only one or two strikes. It’s very controlled.” Barrack's attention flicked to Jeffers and Calhoun. Each seemed more interested than before, though Jeffers had the look of a newer detective.

"Our second, sixth, tenth, fourteenth, and the latest, eighteenth are calm, almost _easy_ ." Barrack put air quotes around 'easy' and continued. "These are methodical and precise. Not professional, not by any means, but just _easy._ "

Jeffers perked up. "Murders three, seven, eleven, and fifteen are like the _easy_ ones, but there's the cross…?"

"I thought the same thing, but they're not committed by the same person." Barrack added.

"What makes you think it's not?" Matterhorn asked.

Barrack took the corresponding case files and dug out specific pictures from each. He presented the photos to Matterhorn, one of the easy and religious murders. "This is the second murder, an _easy_ one; notice the placement of the victim's left hand—it's turned in. Now look at the cross one. The victim's left hand is turned out. Murders with a cross are the only ones with the left hand turned out."

Matterhorn nodded. "What about the others?"

"They're sloppy. Each follows the basic MO of all the others, but they're not as neat; if you will." Calhoun spoke up while scooting his toothpick to the other side of his mouth. He wasn't surprised Calhoun knew what was going on, just that he said something.

His lieutenant sat back and examined the board he and Jeffers made. "This is a breakthrough, Invar, I agree, but we have no solid suspects."

"I thought the same, until I realized every house has one thing in common. A child."

Both Calhoun and Matterhorn interrupted him, making sure he knew several of the victims were empty nesters and had no children.

"Grandchildren" was his answer.

"Grandchildren who visit every once in a while," Calhoun added. He would know, since he was a grandfather himself.

Barrack agreed. "But does your grandson have friends they like to play with when he stays over?"

"Well, yeah."

"And do any of those kids have nannies?"

Calhoun sat back and blinked. "One does."

"So you're saying even though you don't have a nanny for your grandson, a friend of your grandson does?" Barrack asked, and Calhoun nodded. "Do you chat with the nanny?" Again, Calhoun nodded.

"It's the fucking nannies." Jeffers leaned his whole weight on the table, a look of total shock on his face. “I don’t fucking believe it.” His head landed heavily in his hand, his fingers gripping his hair and skewing his glasses.

Barrack thought Jeffers looked like a kid who’d just found out Christmas came early. "That's my belief, yes. Every house had a child with a nanny or a friend who had a nanny. I was looking over everything this morning, and one nanny agency stands out against the rest: Little Charmer's Nannies. Only three children had a nanny from a different agency, uh—" Barrack paused to check his notes. "—Nanny Connect for one and Sunnyside Nannies for the other two." He paused to allow some of the information to sink in. "I think we're looking for four nannies as our murderers. As to whether or not other nannies are in on it or unsuspecting information mules, I'm not sure."

Matterhorn looked from the wall of photos to Barrack several times. "Didn't you interview a nanny as a witness or something at the eleventh murder?"

"Ashley Vela, yes. She seemed happy the little boy was dead. She told me he was a mean and would never share his toys. That he bit all the time. Guess what was mostly stolen from this house. Valuables, yes, but mostly the mean little boy’s toys. I want to bring in Ms. Vela and question her here.”

"Done." Matterhorn stood, checking the time. "I'll have a black and white pick her up. Is there anything else?"

"Nothing overly important," Barrack offered and handed Matterhorn Little Charmer's Nannies contact information to get in touch with Ms. Vela. "I can do that myself."

"It's okay, I'll do it. When she gets here, take Jeffers in with you. He needs more face time with seasoned detectives. I need to find a suitable partner for him."

Barrack saluted Matterhorn, and his lieutenant left. He wasn't used to Matterhorn actually being nice to him. It was a little unnerving to say the least.

"Jeffers, can you gather these up and meet Calhoun and me at our desks?"

"Sure thing, Invar." Jeffers got up and began to collect everything while Calhoun and Barrack went to their desks.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

Barrack was at his desk sifting through mundane paperwork. His badge hung from his neck on a silver chain Willow had bought him for their last birthday. “Invar?”

Barrack glanced up at Jeffers, standing in the half-open glass door. “Yeah?”

Jeffers nodded and pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “Your nanny is here.”

He grunted, pushed away from his desk, and walked out, clasping Jeffers on the shoulder. “Thanks. Let’s go.” He decided not to wait on the elevator, and instead headed for the stairs.

The two were almost to their floor when Jeffers stopped him. “Invar?”

Barrack paused, one hand on the door leading to the interrogation area. Jeffers seemed lost. “What’s up?”

Jeffers wouldn’t look at him. He glanced at almost everything else before settling on Barrack’s shoes. His hands were in his pockets like a little boy in trouble. “Are you gay?”

Barrack leaned against the door, a little shocked at Jeffers’s question.

Jeffers’s slumped shoulders told him Jeffers truly meant his question and wasn’t asking for the sake of office gossip. “No, Jeffers.

Jeffers’s eyes snapped up to his. He’d never noticed his sharp deep chocolate eyes. The kid’s glasses hid their true beauty. “Oh… I thought ‘cause of Willow, you were—”

“I am with Willow, but I’m not gay. I’ve never been with a man before, and I’ll never be with another man again, but then again, I don’t plan on letting Willow go. I love him.” Jeffers blinked at him several times before nodding. He looked even more lost now. “Why?”

Jeffers’s eyes widened, a look of surprise transforming his face. His sullen exterior became youthful again. He blinked several times, and Barrack supposed he wasn't exactly known for being overly talkative.

Finally, Jeffers shrugged nonchalantly. Barrack could tell it was anything but. “I was just thinking, that’s all.”

Barrack observed Jeffers for a moment. Jeffers could be considered handsome by most standards. His glasses, shaggy hair, and baggy clothing disguised his handsome face and, from what Barrack had felt before, a well-defined physique.

Opening the door, Barrack paused. “You know, Jeffers, it’s okay to love another man. Nothing is wrong with it. If someone dislikes or disowns you for it, then you don’t need them.”

It was like a light went on in Jeffers’s head. Or maybe it was validation from someone outside of his circumstances, Barrack couldn’t be sure which, but whatever it was made the kid a little lighter somehow.

“Come on.” Barrack pushed through the door. “If Calhoun isn’t down here, we’re starting without him.” Jeffers didn’t say anything but followed Barrack onto the second floor’s interrogation area.

Barrack took in several officers and detectives escorting someone somewhere. One or two of the civilians were crying, but none of them were the nanny. He frowned and checked the sign-in log. Ashley Vela wasn’t on the list.

“I thought you said she was here?”

He wasn’t mad, far from it in fact, just confused, but by the way Jeffers’s eyes bulged, one would think he threatened to lop off the guy’s balls. “Holmes radioed in they were on their way…”

Barrack nodded and a bright shade of green caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. He looked up to see Ashley Vela in one of her thin sweaters. She was escorted by an officer.

He walked over to them with Jeffers close behind. Ashley recognized him; he could see it in her wide eyes. “I’ll take it from here, Holmes.” The officer nodded and walked off.

“Good morning, ma’am. I’m Detective Invar. Do you remember me?”

Pulling her sweater closer around herself, Ashley nodded and looked nervous. “Si.”

He gestured toward the open interrogation room, guiding her gently by the arm. “This way, if you please. I’ve only a couple of questions.”

Ashley nodded, hugging herself. Her knuckles were white from her tight grip on her sweater. “Okay.”

She settled into the seat, keeping her hands in her lap and looking nervous. Barrack sat across from her and clasped his hands on the table. Jeffers stood in the back. “This is my associate Detective Jeffers.” Other than that he said nothing and examined her face. She was young, maybe twenty-two or twenty-four, but no more. Barrack hoped she was not overly involved in all this. She was so young. She had a full life ahead of her.

The three of them sat in silence. Ashley squirmed in the chair and fidgeted with this and that, but mostly with the hem of her sweater. She looked at the two-way mirror taking up a good sized portion of the wall. A bead of sweat rolled down her temple.

Barrack only sat, thankful Jeffers took the hint to stay quiet. She had to be the one to talk first.

Going over his to-do list in his head, he blinked several times when Ashley cleared her throat. “Uh, you said you have questions for me?” Barrack only nodded, looking her straight in the eye. She quickly glanced away. “What kind of questions?”

“Why don’t you tell me, Ashley?”

The petite woman snapped her eyes to his. Her breathing increased. “I don’t know anything.” Tilting his head, he opted to say nothing and let her fidget. “I don’t, Detective Invar.”

“I think you do.” When Ashley visibly swallowed, he proceeded to tell her all about the murders, the fourth in the pattern, the children, and their nannies. Pausing, he mulled over what to say next. His planning was interrupted by Ashley’s soft whispers. He strained to hear her. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“The cross murders were me.”

Barrack’s hopes of this young woman not being overly involved shattered. “Ms. Vela, do you know what you’re admitting to?”

She looked him straight in the eye. “If I tell you everything I know, will you stop them?”

“I will do everything in my power to do just that.” Which was God’s honest truth. “Would you like a lawyer, Ms. Vela?”

Shaking her head no, Ashley squared her shoulders. “I have two other requests, and I will tell you.”

“If it’s within my power, I will do so,” Barrack promised.

“Uno, I have a cat, Buttons. I wish for her to be delivered to my mother. Dos, I do not want to be in the same prison as these others I speak of.”

Nodding, Barrack leaned back once again, “You have my word.”

Sitting taller, Ashley folded her small hands on the table. “A year and a half ago, I was approached by Tiffany Burton. She noticed how I talk about the rich people we work for. How they don’t deserve what they have. Overspend on things they don’t need and leave other people to raise their kids.”

She paused, and the first thing Barrack wanted to do was ask her questions, but he knew she needed to talk this out on her own time.

“It was nothing at first. Idle gossip and saying mean things. Tiffany would always ask questions about the houses I visited. Question after question. I noticed the houses I talked about would eventually be robbed, but I didn't think anything of it. A year ago, she confessed that she and several others were robbing their employers’ friends. Never their employer. Then a few weeks ago, she told me that one of them had killed someone and they needed my help so she wouldn’t get in trouble.” She paused again, her face relaxed but her body tense. “I always put on the cross and pray for their souls. Meagan Doll was the first to murder. Heather Wilson is the other."

Barrack heard Jeffers jotting everything down. “Why did you help them instead of going to the police?”

Ashley looked him square in the eye. “Meagan and I grew up in the same area. She is family.”

“Biological family?” Jeffers asked.

“No.” Ashley looked down. “But we are the same… It sounds so stupid now that I say it out loud.”

Barrack stood. “It’s not stupid to want to protect your people. What was stupid was _helping_ them. By doing so, you only caused them more trouble.”

“I see that now.”

Barrack nodded, nothing left to say to her. He turned to leave. “Finish this up, Jeffers.”

He went next door to the room on the other side of the two-way mirror to find Matterhorn and Calhoun standing there looking satisfied. “Good job, Invar.” Matterhorn walked past him to leave with a nod.

“Lieutenant, I need to talk to you.”

Matterhorn nodded and gestured for them to move on.

“I’ll supervise the kid,” Calhoun said.

Barrack nodded and then followed Matterhorn across the room to the elevators.

Ten hours later, Barrack was finally ready to leave. He took one last look at his office, since this was the last time he would see it for a very long time. Matterhorn hadn’t been happy when Barrack revealed he was taking an extended leave. Though Matterhorn seemed to understand.

He’d told Calhoun earlier and had been surprised at Calhoun’s apology for slacking. They reconciled, sort of.

Jeffers walked in without looking up. The kid had lost several files doing that, but it seemed he never learned. “Jeffers.”

The poor kid started, almost dropping his files. “Yes?” He pushed up his glasses.

Barrack shook his head with a smile and walked up to Jeffers. “I’m taking off for a while.” Jeffers’s face fell, which only confirmed in Barrack’s mind that he was about to do the right thing. “Need to talk, call me. Anytime about anything.” Barrack handed Jeffers his detective’s business card with his personal cell scribbled on the back. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

He walked off with a wave only to come up short at the door. “Thank you, Invar.”

“Anytime, kid.”

He left the building and climbed into his truck. It took him a minute to process the day’s events. They’d wrangled all the nannies except one, but they were confident she’d be apprehended soon. Barrack took a deep breath and pushed work from his mind.

“Well, I guess since Willow’s gone and this shit is taken care of, I’m gonna treat myself to an Emotio concert.” He started the truck with a grin and selected another favorite Emotio CD, _Broken Pain_. “Miami, Florida, here I come.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barrack - like an army barrack.
> 
> sagekazankov.wordpress.com

Barrack exited the Miami Metro Airport, duffel in hand, and shielded his eyes from the harsh sun. He paused to let his eyes adjust, then walked over to the waiting taxis. “Where you headed?”

“American Airlines Arena, where the Emotio concert is.”

The cabby smiled, showing off his perfect white teeth, and shook his head. “You have a death wish. That place is packed, but I’ll take you. Climb on in. That all you got?”

Barrack nodded and climbed inside.

Barrack sat in silence as the cabby maneuvered his way out of the busy airport and onto the cramped highways. The ride was punctuated with honking horns, flying fingers, and random cursing rants or any combination of the three, and Barrack ground his teeth together. Almost sixty grueling minutes and nearly four accidents later, the cab finally pulled up to the arena. Barrack handed over a fifty to the cab driver for his daily bravery in the face of such traffic, and slid out of the back of the cab.

“Good luck to you, sir!”

The cabby drove off, leaving him with a full view of the arena. The regular entrance line almost wrapped all the way to the back of the building. The VIP line only looked a little shorter. The concert wasn't due to start for another two hours. They would start letting people in soon. Several ambulances stood by, just in case.

Because the arena held less than 20,000 seats, twice as many tickets had been sold. Emotio was scheduled to perform two nights in a row, so whoever got in on the first night wouldn’t be getting in tomorrow night. At first, Barrack had thought it was a stupid idea, until he saw the turnout. It was good marketing, after all.

Waiting in line wasn't in Barrack today. Barrack walked straight up to the front of the VIP line. “Excuse me, sir, you have to go to the back of the line.”

Barrack flashed his white VIP Badge. The security guard looked at it this way and that before letting him past the rope. “I need to check your bag, sir.”

He handed his bag over and the security officer checked through his belongings. “Come straight from the airport?”

Barrack nodded and took his bag from the guard. “Thanks.” He half waved before disappearing inside. Following the signs for the floor seating, he marched to his customary spot right in front of Patryk Sama’el’s mic. He dropped his bag between himself and the stage wall, and unlocked his phone to find a text from Willow: _I need a heater._

Barrack couldn't help but laugh. _What do you do without me?_

_Freeze my nuts off. Duh._

Chuckling, he shook his head. _That will not do. I need those_.

_You and me both, buddy_ … _I miss you, Bear._

His finger absently stroked the screen. _I told you I_ ’ _ll come to you when my case is solved._

_So you_ ’ _re not at the Emotio concert tonight?_

Barrack looked around as the arena filled little by little. _Of course not. I_ ’ _m diligently working to be with you again._

_Somehow I don_ ’ _t believe you. I g2g. Txt you later. Love you. <3 _

_ <3 _

Shoving his phone in his pocket, he felt a little bad for lying to Willow, but only a little. This concert was well worth the tiny lie.

There was a noise behind him, and Barrack spun around to watch two kids fighting over a seat. Security personnel rushed over and broke up the scuffle, ushering the two out of the main concert area more, than likely to send them on their way with no refund.

“Annoying, isn’t it?”

A familiar voice echoing an equally familiar question to his left drew Barrack's attention. Holt, Emotio's head of security, walked over. He looked a little tired and stressed.

The two clasped hands and Holt pulled him into a man hug. “Since I'm in it almost as much as you, I can honestly answer that with a yes.” He gave Holt a hearty pat on the arm for sympathy. Thankful for once that he didn't have to deal with the crazies.

Holt sighed. “How have you been since the last time I saw you?”

“I’ve been all right. Seeing someone new. I think he’s a keeper.”

Crossing his arms over his massive chest, Holt smiled. “He? Invar, I didn’t know you’re on my rainbow side of the fence. Who is he?”

Barrack leaned against the stage, his hands in his front pockets. “I’m only gay for him. It’s Willow.”

Holt’s eyebrows shot up. “Damn, Invar, he’s a hot little piece of ass. Shit, does he know you’re here?”

Shaking his head no, Barrack smiled. “I told him I’m still working on my latest case. He thinks I’m in Houston.”

Holt play-punched Barrack. “You lying bitch, you.” Slapping him on the shoulder, Holt scowled as four twinks came running down onto the floor. “Later, Invar, I’m not getting caught up in this dick fest.” Holt snatched Barrack's duffle and headed backstage.

Shaking his head at Holt’s retreating back, Barrack yelled, “Pussy!”

He couldn’t help but laugh as Holt held both middle fingers over his shoulders. He would have to track Holt down later to get his bag back. Not to mention punch the asshole for flipping him the bird.

* * *

Willow put his phone away and sighed. He missed Barrack. More so than usual. The pain in his gut flared, but he paid it no attention. Most of the time he could easily ignore it.

He kept putting it off because he thought it'd go away or it was a manifestation of his inner conflict with the whole Barrack thing. Maybe after this set of concerts, he should see a doctor. Maybe.

"Final call." Luxe, a sweet pink-haired man, popped his head in. "We have to get started."

He sighed and nodded. There was always something to do. "Can't it wait?"

Luxe sighed and came in, shutting the door behind him, with a very pronounced limp. "What's wrong?" Luxe sat next to him and patted his knee.

"Just stuff" was all he said.

Luxe only nodded and didn't say anything else for a while. "We have a schedule to keep." Luxe got up with a hiss of pain, but denied Willow's help. "Take a minute, get it together, and let’s get this over with. Then we can eat gallons of ice cream."

Willow laughed and said good-bye to Luxe. Ice cream sounded like a good idea once this was over. He just hoped Barrack would still be waiting for him when he got home.

* * *

Half an hour later, a relatively new band called BakClok began the opening scene. Barrack had never heard of them, but by this time tomorrow, they would be the latest thing. Everyone would know who they were in three, maybe four days.

BakClok played four pretty good songs before the stage went completely black. Flashing lights from cameras flared along the audience in the darkness. A soft low note from a violin set the audience off into a cheering frenzy. A flood light lit up Dominik Lew, his jewel-green hair glittering in the harsh light. His face filled up the giant sectioned jumbo screen behind the band. His soft gray fern green eyes were lined in heavy eyeliner, and his nose stud glittered almost flirtatiously. When his gaze found the camera filming him, he winked seductively. The audience went crazy as his soft melody turned into an electric performance worthy of even fifty million people.

One by one, the other five members appeared on stage. All drop-dead sex-on-legs men.

Barrack stood watching and singing along as the energy of the audience pulsed within him. Patryk Sama’el sang with something extra tonight, but Barrack couldn’t quite pinpoint what. Patryk’s crimson button-up shirt clung to him in just the right places. His half gloves and silver joint rings added to his image. His red fitted mask looked sexier than anything else, inlaid with swirls of gold that accented the curvature of the disguise in just the perfect way.

Barrack knew every song and sang along. He caught Patryk eyeing him several times during the whole thing. Barrack only smiled, waving in return.

It felt like only mere minutes, but it was more than an hour later when Patryk finally spoke. “How is everyone doing tonight?”

The whole audience went up in a massive roar.

“Excellent. Excellent. So who read my interview with _VAL_?”

Again the audience went up in cheers.

Laughing, Patryk picked up his mic stand a little, lightly playing with it. “I don't even remember the last time I did one of those."

"It was almost five years ago," Aksel supplied and took a sip of water.

"Really?" Patryk shrugged, and the crowd cheered their agreement. "Who caught the bit about my boyfriend?”

This time the very arena shook with the appreciation of Patryk’s question. Leaving his stand, Patryk went to the back and grabbed a stool. “Ever since that damn interview came out, everyone—and I mean _everyone_ —is asking me who my boyfriend is.” He set the stool next to his abandoned mic stand and sat down. His long, leather-encased legs crossed over each other at the ankle.

“Even my mom and dad pestered me to no end. ‘Course they know who he is.” Another round of cheers, “Well, everyone, I’d like for you to know my boyfriend is out there somewhere with all of you.” Barrack’s ears hurt from all the cheering. “Now, I wrote this song not too long ago, and Dominik and I—” At Dominik’s name, another round of cheers went up. “—Dominik and I haven't worked too much on it together. Even my other lovely little pawns haven’t heard it. So they’re in the same boat as you tonight. I hope you enjoy it.”

Cheers rang out as the stage went dark. A flood light lit up Patryk and Dominik.

_So long, so far,_

_I know that we are worlds apart,_

_You know me, better than I know me,_

_How can this be,_

_Baby, you know me,_

_You are the other half of me,_

_Without you, baby, I cannot breathe,_

_Hold me close, whisper to me,_

_Baby, you are the other half of me_ …

Dominik and Patryk came together beautifully, displaying the raw emotion and power behind the song. Barrack thought it was beautiful and moving.

“What do you all think? Album worthy, yeah?” Once again the audience went wild with applause. “I think ya’ll are right. It’s definitely going on there somewhere. Bet you balls on that.” Patryk smiled to the audience, then took a long swig of water. “On behalf of all of us—” Patryk gestured to the band behind him. “I’d like to thank each and every one of you for coming out tonight. Everyone have a good night!” Patryk threw up his fist as he walked offstage. Dominik and Bishop rattled the walls with their electric duet before the concert unfortunately ended.

The signing information, like always, flashed on the screen. Looking to his right, he scowled at the line already forming. Barrack wasn't having any of it. He marched, like before, straight up to the front. White VIP Badge already in hand.

“I’m sorry, sir,” a burly guard said curtly. “But you are going to have to go to the end of the line. There’s no badge access tonight.”

The two big security guards grated Barrack’s nerves. Just as he was about to let them know exactly what he thought, the larger of the two frowned and listened to his earpiece. Nodding to his partner, the bigger one opened the door for Barrack.

As the door closed behind him, the other concert-goers’ anger drifted behind him through the door, their shouting intensified before dying back down. He couldn’t help but smile to himself. It helped knowing basically everyone on the inside. Scanning the area, he immediately spotted Patryk talking to one of the crew members with light pink hair, Luxe.

He walked straight up to the mysterious man and leaned over to whisper in Patryk's ear. “Where’s your dressing room?”

Patryk looked at him, stunned, before licking his lips, then took Barrack’s hand in his, leading him down a hall to the last door on the left.

Once inside, Barrack shoved Patryk against the dressing room door, pinning the smaller man with his weight. He growled softly in the back of his throat and made quick work of Patryk’s shoes and pants. Barrack loosened his own pants and lifted the smaller man to wrap his legs around Barrack's waist.

Patryk's ass felt good in his hands. Patryk jumped and kissed him with passion. “My boyfriend’s gonna kill me,” Patryk whispered against his lips.

Patryk hissed, and Barrack grunted when he fingered Patryk’s ass. “So is mine.” Barrack dug a lube packet out of his front pocket. “I told him I would fuck you in your dressing room.” He slicked his cock then smeared some over Patryk’s hole. “Gonne be rough.” He aligned his cock with Patryk’s lubed entrance. A groan gripped free as he slowly sank into Patryk’s welcoming heat.

Patryk didn’t even wait a second before using his legs as leverage to begin fucking himself on Barrack’s cock. Barrack hooked one of Patryk’s knees on his elbow and gripped Patryk’s neck with the other, as he ruthlessly pounded into him.

He grunted as Patryk’s slick hole gripped his cock. Liquid pleasure shot through his veins as he pummeled into the lead singer. His balls smacked Patryk’s ass and the sound of flesh slapping flesh mixed with Patryk’s sweet little moans and gentle pleas. Patryk's pierced tongue flicked at Barrack’s lips and curled inside his bottom lip, Patryk’s tongue glided along his lower gums. Patryk’s teeth nipped his bottom lip and drew it inside. He moaned loudly as Patryk gently sucked. He caught Patryk’s tongue ring in his teeth and pulled just enough to be uncomfortable but not painful.

Patryk hummed loudly and relaxed, submitting to Barrack.

“Son of a bitch,” Patryk choked out before his hand slid between them, pumping his own shaft. Barrack moaned as Patryk’s other hand gripped his hair like a vise. Patryk’s soft moans and panting sent a shiver down his spine.

Barrack growled. “No touching.” Using his hand with Patryk’s leg hooked at his elbow, Barrack snatched the singer’s hand away. “You’re going to come just like this.” A sloppy kiss sent a tingle down his spine. “With my cock in you. You gonna come on my cock for me?” He licked a path up Patryk’s neck. “Show me.” Goddamn, he was close. “Show me how hungry your ass is for me.”

“Fuck, I’m gonna… Aww shit.” Patryk’s strangled voice set him off. Shuttering along with Patryk, Barrack came balls deep in Patryk’s ass.

He was panting heavily and guided Patryk's hooked leg around his waist. His grip over Patryk's neck eased, and he moved his other hand up Patryk’s leg, side and neck before taking the edge of Patryk’s mask between his fingertips, slowly pulling it off. Barrack tossed it on the floor and kissed him again, swallowing the other man’s soft little whimpers.

Pulling back, Barrack was lost in those beautiful blue-gray steel eyes. “I solved the case. I also took a nine month leave.”

“Seriously?” A whisper so soft tickled across his lips. “And you lied. You said you would screw me before the concert, and you told me you weren’t here tonight.”

Nuzzling his nose into the sweet smelling vanilla shampoo scent, Barrack chuckled. “Yes, Willow, I am yours, and so I did. Punish me later. Although you’d have to punish Quentin too. He helped me out tonight. Do you think you can get a mask made up for me too?”

Willow’s arms and legs tightened their hold on him. “Are you serious, Bear?” Those lips ghosted across his neck, sending little aftershocks of pleasure down his spine.

Barrack rubbed his hands up and down Willow’s sides and laughed. “More than, Aleksandr. My Willow. My Patryk. My love. I am yours.”

A loud pounding on the door startled both men. “Are you two finished? Patryk has a signing to do!”

“Fuck off, Holt!” Barrack growled back through the door.

“Love to. You two got me hard and leaking out here listening, but I’ve got work to do, and you two are standing in the way of my fuck off. Five minutes!”

Barrack laughed and kissed Willow’s neck. “We better get going, or he’ll bust the damn door down.” He guided Willow to standing and snatched up the red mask, handing it to him.

The smile on Willow's face made Barrack feel lighter than he could remember. Willow made his way, bare ass naked, over to the mirror to put his mask back on and transform into Patryk. Barrack zipped himself up and walked over to his duffle in the corner to get a black button-up shirt. He watched the smaller man and walked over, taking note of his cuome dripping down Willow’s tattooed thigh, caressing the nape of Willow’s neck.

“That white chunk in your hair is sexy as hell.”

Smiling, Patryk watched in his mirror as Barrack put on the black shirt. “Sit here.”

Ten minutes later, Barrack found himself sitting next to Patryk at the end of the signing table. He wore one of Patryk’s simpler black masks. It didn’t exactly fit right, but it would do for now. He knew he would have to learn how to do the concealing eyeliner himself. It simply wouldn't do to have to rely on Patryk to do it every time for him.

The other band members looked at him curiously. A uniform question clouded over their faces, but right then there simply wasn't enough time to answer any of them. Well, maybe just one.

Crossing his legs, Barrack rested his arm on the back of Patryk’s chair. Patryk for his part leaned into Barrack’s side, resting comfortably as they both watched the first concert-goer come through. The band seemed to take the hint well enough.

Filtering through the rest of the band, the first concert-goer eyed him curiously. “This is Innrack. My boyfriend,” Patryk announced. The Emotio fan's face lit up at Patryk’s introduction.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

Barrack smiled and shook the offered hand. “Innrack?” he whispered to Patryk quietly. He could feel a slight shiver run through the smaller man.

“Barrack Invar. Innrack. It works.”

Barrack watched Patryk sign away another poster. “Why couldn’t we use my middle name like you did?”

Pausing in mid-sign, Patryk eyed Barrack critically before finishing. “Mitchell? Really? It so does not fit with the sexy vibe we’ve got going on here.”

Barrack laughed and settled more into his chair, watching as the fans filtered through. Every once in a while, one would shake his hand. He did notice that since he’d arrived, Patryk hadn't pressed his hand to the spot once.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He wasn't going to look at it until it went off again. The first text made him smile. _I love you, Bear._ The second made him laugh. _Stop ignoring me, jackass._

Barrack looked at his best friend and couldn’t help but think Patryk’s mask was sexier than hell. Just next to Patryk, Dominik sat, looking more at ease than Barrack remembered him in a long time. Holt stood just behind Bishop’s seat, keeping a constant vigil over the troublesome band member.

Holt glanced at him with a knowing smile. He needed to remember to thank Holt for letting him in earlier. The band manager, Sig, stood casually next to Holt, seemingly relaxed, a toothpick hanging from his thin mouth.

“Are you two going to get married?” Barrack’s attention swiveled back to a handsome man standing casually, waiting on Dominik to finish signing his poster. His long, dirty blond hair fell right over his forehead. Handsome dark emerald green eyes framed in dirty blond lashes openly looked Barrack over. His somewhat slender form moved with a certain grace under his loose clothing.

Looking at Patryk, Barrack couldn’t help his small smile. “I’m thinking about it.” Patryk’s blush at his words was only accentuated by his red mask. He couldn’t help but think how that lovely blush would’ve matched his previous red shirt.

“Liam Bennot.”

Patryk shook the offered hand. “Pleasure to meet you. This is Innrack.”

Liam’s firm, sure grip told of hidden strength.

Nodding to Liam, Barrack leaned back in his chair. He pressed into Patryk's personal space and softly whispered, “I love you, too.” Moving his arm from the back of the chair to wrap around Patryk’s neck, he gripped Patryk’s chin, forcing Patryk into a gentle, slow kiss. They both ignored everyone as a series of catcalls and sexual remarks flooded the room. Pulling away, Patryk smiled at him. Those blue-gray eyes danced with a happiness he hadn’t seen in a long time. It warmed him to his very soul that he was the cause of such a look.

He needed to remember to call their parents tomorrow to let them know what was going on. Wouldn’t do to have irate parents on their hands. Plus, he needed them to go check on their places while they were gone.

Sitting back, he absently began to massage the base of Patryk’s neck and watched the various fans filter through the line. Several stopped to introduce themselves just as Liam Bennot had. A few squealed. A few looked on with dreamy eyes, and a few looked as if they wanted to cause him bodily harm. Patryk smiled through it all and happily introduced Barrack as his boyfriend, Innrack.

Smiling to himself, he settled more comfortably into his chair.

**Innrack it was.**


End file.
